


From Countess to Cabin Boy

by formerlydf



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Jonas Brothers, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is..., The Cab, The Hush Sound
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always the Opposite Sex, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Crossdressing, F/M, Genderswap, Harlequin, Hats, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-12
Updated: 2009-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formerlydf/pseuds/formerlydf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be fair, Brendon never truly intends to join the crew of a pirate ship. It just sort of... happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act One

**Author's Note:**

> Above everything else, thanks to [clarityhiding](http://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding), who not only beta-ed (and reminded me that this could technically count as a [](http://harlequin-bands.livejournal.com/profile)[harlequin_bands](http://harlequin-bands.livejournal.com/) submission, being generally inspired by romance novel conventions) but also was so important a consultant for this fic that she probably deserves credit as a cowriter. Plus, she began this whole thing by posting the fake romance novel blurb and promising me to illustrate it if I would write the fic. Of course, as that point both of us thought that this was going to be a quick fic, and not the +30,000 words of ridiculousness below. Seriously, this fic is made entirely of goofiness, with a few pirates and some sex thrown in to liven things up a little.
> 
> She also did, in fact, create an _amazing_ cover illustration, which you can [find here.](http://clarityhiding.livejournal.com/92098.html)
> 
> Phenomenal podfic by [ can be found ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)[here on AO3.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/435193)
> 
> [Originally posted [on LJ.](http://formerlydf.livejournal.com/156836.html)]

**ACT ONE**

_Urie Manor, home of the illustrious Count Urie, his wife, Countess Urie, and their lovely five children_

When Brendon hears that her parents have arranged her marriage, she knows, that as a dutiful daughter, she really has no choice in the matter. A countess-to-be does not have the luxury of choices. She must docilely await his arrival, get married to him, and spend the rest of her life trying to be a caring, attentive wife. Who knows, she might even be lucky enough to fall in love with her husband.

That night, after dinner, Brendon slips upstairs to work on her embroidery, since all well-mannered young ladies should strive to better themselves at the fairer tasks. Then, once her maid has disappeared, she shoves open the window, grabs the bag she's had hidden in her closet for two years, and shimmies down the trellis that's always been conveniently close to her room.

Brendon has never been particularly good at being a dutiful daughter.

 

_Summerside, the closest port town to Urie Manor_

To be fair, Brendon never truly intends to join the crew of a pirate ship. It just sort of... happens.

She's simply minding her own business, sitting in a tavern and enjoying the freedom of pants and short hair. Not that she doesn't like skirts and long hair, since they were kind of fun when she wanted to dress up, but they probably would have hindered her cunning plans to run away and pretend to be a boy.

It hasn't been terribly difficult, so far. She lets herself indulge in one tiny moment of regret that her chest had been so easy to flatten, before deciding that it's stupid to be upset about something that makes pretending to be a boy so much easier. Clearly, she's just going along with some sort of divine plan, here. In a way, it's nice to think that there's a reason beyond stature and genetics that she has small boobs.

She's sitting at a table in the corner, sipping her water (what? It's not like she doesn't want to try ale one day, but she really doesn't want to get drunk and blow her cover on her third night away from home) and trying to figure out where to go next, when a boy about her age sits down at the table with her.

"Have you ever considered a life of action and adventure on the high seas?" he asks her cheerfully.

Brendon stares at him. She also stares at his hair — at least, she thinks it's his hair. It could be some sort of weird, hair-like hat gone terribly, terribly wrong. "Um. What?"

"Have you ever considered a life of action and adventure on the high seas?" he repeats, just as cheerfully.

"Not until now," she admits honestly. She hasn't really trusted the sea, after Jon. Still, it's not like anybody really told her what happened to him; there were just a few careful implications that he had been swallowed by a giant squid or something. For all she knows, he could have sunk in quicksand. Or cursed by a witch. Or he could have fallen in love with some girl who would have had a much harder time dressing up as a boy than Brendon.

The point is that the sea might not necessarily be the reason why he never came back, so maybe Brendon shouldn't disregard it out of hand. After all, she was planning on taking a boat anyway, to get out of town fast. She just hadn't thought about staying on one. But her parents aren't going to be able to search every ship on the sea, are they?

And you know what, screw giant squids. If a giant squid somewhere out there swallowed Jon, Brendon is damn well going to find it and beat it up until it's begging her to make it calamari.

"Wait, so you're considering it? Awesome!" he exclaims. He tips his chair back until it's on two legs, and his hair shifts with the movement. Brendon follows it with her eyes. "That totally hasn't worked so far this evening."

"Really?" she asks curiously. "It sounded pretty good to me."

"I know, right?" He grins at her, waving a waitress over. "Can I have a firewhiskey?"

The waitress, who has the body Brendon might have had if not for genetics, stature and divine plans, looks down her nose at the boy and snorts. "Yeah, right. Does your mother know that you're in here?"

"What, you want me to go back to Chicago to get her written permission?" he demands, and the waitress lightly smacks the back of his head. His hair moves again. Brendon watches it suspiciously.

"At least this one didn't even try," she tells him, pointing at Brendon, who blushes. "Now. Would you like to try that order again?"

"I'd like a virgin piña colada, please," he mutters sulkily. The waitress nods and bustles off.

"Wow," Brendon says, a little impressed. "I always thought taverns were more lenient than that."

"You just have to find the right ones," he assures her. "And come with the right people. If I was with Gabe or Frank, she totally would have let it slide."

"Who are they?" Brendon asks, and then reconsiders her question when she realizes that the only things she knows about the boy sitting in front of her are that he has fascinating hair, he's too young to be drinking, and he thinks that the proper way to start a conversation is asking someone if they've considered a life of action and adventure on the high seas. All of which are awesome character references, but still. "Who are _you_?"

"Oh!" he says, looking a little embarrassed to have forgotten. "Adam Siska, at your service." He holds out his hand, and she shakes it. "But you can call me Sisky."

"Brendon," she says without thinking. She'd used fake names when she was passing through the other towns, but it's not second nature or anything. Luckily, Brendon is a boy's name — she was named after a great uncle, in the hopes of getting some portion of his inheritance — so she probably doesn't have to worry about it too much.

Just another example of how her running away is obviously predestined. This is pretty cool. Brendon never really thought about some kind of higher power actually being real, but she might have to reevaluate that.

"Awesome! Right, so I work for this ship called The Hush Sound Is..., with the three dots at the end, that's pretty important, and I need to find a cabin boy." Sisky sounds deadly serious. Brendon never knew cabin boys were such a big deal.

"You have a cabin? I thought those only went to, like, the captain?" Brendon blanches, because oh shit, what if this kid is the captain, of some ridiculously young ship or whatever, and she just insulted him and ruined her only chance of getting a job without actually going out and looking for one? "Are you the captain? You just seem a little —"

He laughs. "What? No, I'm totally not the captain." He looks out the window reflectively. "One day, though..." After a moment, he blinks and looks back at her. "No, I'm the cabin boy."

Brendon blinks. "I'm confused."

"I'm quitting. Well, not the ship, the ship is awesome, but I'm sick of being cabin boy, so I talked to Spencer and he said I could totally get promoted if I found another cabin boy. I mean, I suggested one of the Alexes, not Suarez Alex, the other Alexes, but Spencer said that none of the Alexes could be trusted with Ryan's hats, so." He just shrugs and steals a sip of her water like everything he just said actually made sense.

In retaliation, Brendon drinks some of his virgin piña colada before he even gets to taste it.

"Hey!" he protests, grabbing it back.

"Turnabout is fair play, dude," she tells him, and he makes a face like he's doesn't want to admit just how right she is. (She happens to be very right. She knows these things. Also, the piña colada is excellent.) "So wait, okay. You need to find a replacement cabin boy."

"Yeah."

"And the only people on your ship who would have been able to do it are these... Alexes?" She's not entirely sure whether he means they're people named Alex, or if they're some different species. She'll probably be able to figure it out if she makes it on the ship, though, and if she doesn't make it on the ship, it won't really matter, will it?

"Yeah. Because Cash is one of the Alexes, and anybody connected with Cash is automatically a little less trustworthy with things like that," Sisky says sagely, drinking his piña colada. "Also, they would probably have sex in the captain's bed. It's hard to fit five people in a hammock."

"Okay," Brendon says slowly. She knew her parents kept her somewhat sheltered, but she hadn't known how much.

But, still. Being on a crew where five members may be a different species and are also having sex, versus an arranged marriage with someone whom she already knows she's absolutely never going to be able to love, no matter who it is? Yeah, no contest.

"Sign me up," she says, smacking the table with her palm, just for emphasis. She's always wanted to do that, but apparently it's not very ladylike. Being a boy is so liberating!

Sisky steadies his piña colada and grins like she's just made his day. "Seriously? Awesome! Dude, you totally won't regret this. It's going to be great." He takes another gulp of piña colada and has to wait for the inevitable brain freeze to pass before he adds, "At least, once you pass all the tests it will be."

 

_The Hush Sound Is..., docked in the port of Summerside_

"So, you're the new cabin boy," Bob says. At least, Brendon has been reliably informed that the man in front of her is Bob. He certainly fits Sisky's description from the night before, possessing both red hair and ninja-like qualities. (As opposed to the Other Bob, according to Sisky, who is no longer on the ship but is blond and ninja-like and also looks like he could probably kill you with one hand, despite being a bit of a marshmallow on the inside.) To be fair, Brendon hasn't seen the ninja-like qualities yet, but she can extrapolate.

"Um. Well, not yet," Brendon says, locking her hands behind her back and trying not to fidget. She wants to make a good impression on these guys, since for the moment they're her best job opportunity. Also, she's kind of looking forward to the idea of being a cabin boy. It's definitely a change from being a countess-to-be, which mostly involved a lot of embroidery and etiquette. Brendon sucks at both embroidery and etiquette.

"Not yet?"

"Sisky told me I had to pass tests first."

"Tests?" a woman says, coming up from belowdecks. Brendon feels a pang of envy, knowing she will never look that blonde, that sweet, or that curvy. Also, she wouldn't be surprised if this woman could probably kick her ass blindfolded. She's got that look about her. "Ooh, is this the new cabin boy? Do we get to test him now?"

She looks at Brendon and then loses her smile, peering more closely. Brendon fights the urge to take a step backwards, but it's okay; after a moment, the woman's smile returns, bigger and more lovely than ever. Brendon's just a little worried what she saw in that moment.

"Greta," Bob says, rolling his eyes. He turns to Brendon. "Sisky was kidding. We're not going to test you."

"Aww," Greta complains. "I need something to entertain me, now that Jon has gone off for the week."

Brendon's heart thrills a little at the name Jon, but she relentlessly squashes it. She's not allowed to get her hopes up, or pine over him, or even think about him. That was four years ago, and even if he isn't dead, he certainly never made any effort to contact her, so she really needs to just... get over it.

Maybe being on The Hush Sound Is... will be good for her. She's heard that the sea cures all ills, when it isn't making you vomit over the side of the boat.

"Oh," Brendon says, because she figures she needs to respond somehow. "Okay." She looks at Greta. "Um, I'm sorry?"

Greta smiles at her, wide and dazzling. "You're a sweetheart, aren't you? I'm glad Sisky found you."

"Me too?" Brendon says. Despite her best efforts, it still sounds like a question.

"I'm Greta," Greta tells her, holding out her hand.

Brendon shakes it. "Brendon."

"Where are you from, Brendon?"

Brendon shrugs. "Here and there. I've been traveling for a little while." Three days totally counts as a little while. "I just — I wanted something new, you know? I needed to make a change, get away from home."

"And your parents?" Greta's voice is kind, like she already knows everything Brendon could possibly tell her.

Brendon fidgets. "Didn't exactly give permission."

"Oh, honey," Greta says, wrapping her arm around Brendon's shoulders. She looks at Bob. "I approve of this one. We can keep him, right?"

Bob just looks at Brendon, who tries to stand to attention as much as she can with Greta still partially wrapped around her. "You have any stuff you need to get?"

"Some clothes," Brendon says, looking at him hopefully. Does this mean they're going to let her on the ship? Because that would rock. "And my guitar."

And wow, had that been a pain in the ass to drag between towns, but there was no way in hell Brendon was going to leave that behind. She'd worked too hard to learn guitar, and then hide it from her parents (guitar is apparently less ladylike than piano, since it gives you calluses — whatever, like Brendon cares), to not bring her baby with her when she went out to find the rest of her life. Plus, if they'd found it after she disappeared, they probably would have given it to one of her nephews, and they would definitely not have treated it with the proper respect. Brendon knows her nephews, okay, they would have either let it gather dust in a corner or mistreated it while allegedly practicing.

Honestly, it's just a pity she couldn't take her piano with her. Or her harp. Or the trombone she had totally planned on learning how to play one day.

"Take Sisky with you and go get it," Bob says, motioning with his hand. He's not the captain, Brendon knows, but Sisky said that everyone trusts Bob to make the decisions when the first mate and some guy named William — not Captain Ross, who is apparently not allowed to make decisions without someone else approving them — all aren't there. The Hush Sound Is... seems to have a very complicated power structure. "You can stow it on the ship."

"Really?" Brendon squeaks, lighting up. She dashes forward to hug Bob. "You're totally not going to regret this!" After a moment, she remembers where she is, who she's talking to, and who's she's pretending to be, and steps back, blushing and trying to lower her voice. "I mean, uh. Thank you."

Greta laughs. "Oh, you're totally going to fit in here. Run along, now."

Brendon runs along. Eventually Sisky catches up, and they stroll through town to the room Brendon rented above the tavern. She didn't like leaving her stuff there — what if someone tried to steal her guitar? — but carrying everything with her through the streets when she wasn't sure that she even had the position seemed a little impractical.

She has her guitar strapped to her back and the bag with her clothes slung over her shoulder as they trek back, laughing and occasionally dodging piles of shit. Brendon feels great. She hasn't felt this great in years, or this comfortable with people she doesn't know. Not since Jon, now that she thinks about it.

Then Sisky pulls her over to the side and whispers, "Hey, keep walking down this road for a little while, will you? I'll catch up."

"Adam Siska," Brendon says, trying to look stern. "Are you up to something scandalous?"

He grins at her. "I don't know, am I?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," she says, laughing. "Just make sure you meet back up with me, I wouldn't want Greta or Bob to get angry with me for losing you or something. That would be a bad first day, I think."

"Don't worry about it," he says, dashing off.

Brendon shrugs inwardly and keeps going, watching the people around her while still keeping an eye on her bags. She doesn't have that much money in there, but it's a matter of principle. The principle, in this case, is mostly that it would be just plain embarrassing if she got her pocket picked. She doesn't want to be the living example of what happens to unsuspecting, sheltered women when they go into gritty port towns.

A flash of color catches her eye, and she turns to look at a group of three men, one of whom is decorated with tattoos almost everywhere he's showing skin. It's only because she's watching him so intently, trying to pick out each individual design, that she notices Sisky creep up and slip his hand into each of the men's pockets.

Absently, she slaps someone's hand away from her own bags, trying to process this. So Sisky is a thief. This must be one of the other things that her parents sheltered her from — the fact that someone can be a criminal, but also be nice and funny, and not have an ugly pointy beard that shows he's evil.

Although to be fair, she's never seen what's so evil about picking someone's pocket. Slightly illegal, yes, but not evil.

Sisky returns to her side before she has a chance to sort things out entirely in her head, or figure out what her reaction should be. In a split second, she decides to just ask him about it. She's curious, they're going to be working together, and straightforwardness has worked pretty well for her with this crew so far.

"So, those men," she says, not sure how to bring it up. "You weren't just groping them, were you?"

He looks at her, his eyes widening in surprise for a moment. "You saw that? Whoops."

"Yeah. Does, uh, does everyone on the crew do... things like that?" She doesn't want to say the word "steal" out loud, worried that she'll attract undue attention.

"Yeah, pretty much," Sisky says off-handedly.

Right at that moment, they pass a member of the Royal Guard, standing at attention by the side of the road, his red coat bright and gleaming. Brendon could call out to him, if she wanted, say that she just saw the man next to her steal from three people. It would be the lawful thing to do, and her parents always taught her to follow the law.

Instead, she walks past him with Sisky, barely giving the officer a second glance.

Once they're one or two blocks away, Sisky gives her a delighted grin. "Yeah?"

Brendon's not sure what she's agreeing to, but she replies, "Yeah," with a rueful smile and half of a shrug. She likes Sisky, is the thing. She likes Sisky and Greta and Bob, and if they occasionally pick a pocket or two, she's not going to turn them in for it.

Maybe she could even learn how to do it. Not that she would steal things, though. Probably. But it would be a cool skill to have, right?

Just as she's thinking that, another guard comes barrelling up the road, shouts of "Thief, thief!" resounding in the background.

"Shit," Sisky mutters, looking backwards. "Meet me at the statue, okay?"

Brendon barely has time to nod before he's off again, slinking into the crowd so that he's almost invisible between the veiled ladies, hooded priest, and assorted sailors and riffraff from at least five different countries.

Brendon's just about to take a circuitous route to the statue of Admiral Sinatra when the guard grabs her and shoves her into a wall. She only just manages to keep herself from kneeing him in the groin. What? It's a reflex, okay. Not a particularly ladylike one, admittedly, but Jon taught her to keep her guard up when other men pushed her into walls.

Well, men besides him, obviously, but that was different. Brendon liked it when Jon held her against walls.

"What?" she demands, staring at the guard and trying to look terrified. It's not too hard; he has very intimidating eyes. She's not sure if playing meek and scared will work as well when she's pretending to be a boy, but she has to try, doesn't she?

"Which way did he go?" the guard demands, his hands fisting in the collar of her shirt. It's probably going to wrinkle.

Playing dumb obviously won't work, since he probably saw her talking to Sisky, so Brendon goes a slightly different route. "I — why are you asking me? I just met him! He was supposed to help me find someone, I didn't know he'd done anything wrong —"

She cowers, and jumps when he slams his hand into the wall right next to her ear. "Damnit, where is he? Answer me!"

Distantly, Brendon notes that he just spat on her face while yelling, but at least his breath doesn't smell. "He just vanished into the crowd, I didn't see — he said he'd meet me at the Harper's Dragon, I'm new in town, I don't want to do anything wrong —"

"Why should I believe you?" he growls, his face coming closer so that his nose is nearly pressed into his cheek.

"You don't have to, obviously you don't have to, but you asked and that's it, he said the Harper's Dragon, he was going to help me find my sister — oh god, please don't hurt me, I'm not a criminal, I promise I'm not, I just didn't know who to ask and he said he could find her — I don't want to cause trouble, please don't hurt me, I didn't know —"

"Shut up," he orders, sneering at her disdainfully. "You see him, you find a guard, got it? I'll find out if you don't, and you'll wish you'd never been born."

"Got it!" she promises in a yelp, widening her eyes and trying to dig herself into the wall behind her. "I promise, I swear —"

He's already off and running. Brendon slumps down, panting for a few moments to try to keep up the act. Once she thinks enough time has elapsed, she takes her guitar off her back and checks for damage. The case is a little scratched, but other than that it should be fine.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she slings it over her back again and moves on, trying to act shaken for the benefit of random passersby. She wonders how long it will take the guard to reach the Harper's Dragon, which is quite conveniently on the side of town farthest away from Admiral Sinatra's statue and the dock where The Hush Sound Is... is moored.

When she reaches the statue, Sisky is sitting there waiting for her, throwing small pebbles at the feet of some of the largest seagulls Brendon's ever seen.

"You probably shouldn't do that," she tells him, hooking her thumbs over the strap of her bag. "I'm a little afraid they're going to attack you."

He looks up, flipping his hair back slightly. Brendon's still a little suspicious of his hair, but she thinks she's beginning to get used to it. She doesn't stare quite as obviously, at least. "Brendon!" he exclaims. "Awesome, man, you made it."

"Well, you know how it is." Brendon's actually not entirely sure that _she_ knows how it is, but it sounds good. "So, um, are we done running around for one day? Because that was a lot of action and adventure right there, but I kind of thought I would be having the action and adventure on a boat, not on land."

Sisky swears that they're done, and they head straight back to the ship. They're both talking and laughing as they walk up the gangplank, which is why Brendon doesn't notice that the ship is a lot more full than it was when she left until everybody on the deck looks at them and cheers.

"So this is the new recruit!" she hears someone say. "Sisky was so cute about it last night. It was like he found a puppy on the street and wanted to know if he could keep it."

Brendon turns around and sees the tattooed guy that Sisky stole from earlier in the day. When she glances at Sisky he just grins abashedly; suspicious, Brendon examines the rest of the crew, and sees not only the other two "victims", but also both guards.

She laughs. "You're a dirty liar!" she tells a grinning Bob, delighted. "You told me there would be no tests!"

"Well, it's not like we could let you expect it," Greta explains, slinging an arm over Brendon's shoulders and squeezing slightly. "But you passed with flying colors! Congratulations!"

"Yeah?" Sisky demands. "C'mon, I missed Carden's part, what happened?"

Carden must be the name of the scary, wall-shoving guard, because that's the guy who starts talking. "It was great, man. He went the pathetic route and started whimpering, and sent me in the completely wrong direction. Very convincing." He quirks up one side of his mouth and gives Brendon a thumbs up, which helps him look a little less terrifying. Brendon returns the thumbs up triumphantly.

"See? See?" Sisky demands, twisting to look at everyone around him. "I'm a totally great judge of character! And now I don't have to be the cabin boy!"

"Congratulations, Adam," Greta says sincerely, laughing. She uses the arm still wrapped around Brendon to tug her around and start making introductions. The three men that Sisky robbed are the Butcher, Chris, and Darren; Mike Carden and Michael Guy Chislett were the guards. "You'll meet William, Alex and Ryland later; they've got... business in town."

"And Jon," the Butcher adds, lounging against the railing with Sisky tucked up against him. They're very cute together, even if Sisky's hair is blowing oddly in the sea breeze. "But he's not in town, he's got other business."

Carden snorts. "Yeah, stupid business."

"It's sweet," Greta says firmly. "Even if it does mean he has to disappear for a week. And do you want me to tell Kevin that you think love is stupid?"

Carden blushes and looks away. Greta looks triumphant.

"He's already got Ryan and Spencer," Michael points out, stretching. He's got an accent of some sort; Brendon can't place it, but she knows that she wants one exactly like it. "I think he's just greedy."

"Ignore them," Greta tells Brendon firmly. Brendon is quite happy to, since she doesn't have the least idea what they're talking about and it's kind of distressing to hear about men named Jon being in love with other people, even if she knows it isn't her Jon. "Oh! And you'll have to meet the other crew, obviously."

"The other crew?" Brendon's willing to admit she doesn't know much about ships, but she'd been pretty sure that the rule was just one crew per boat.

"It's — complicated," Greta says delicately. "I'll explain it in a bit."

Brendon shrugs and lets it slide; she's already got so much buzzing around in her head that waiting a while before she learns more probably won't hurt.

*

Obviously, running away from home and dressing like a guy and becoming a cabin boy was an awesome choice on Brendon's part, because every single person on The Hush Sound Is... is awesome. Just flat out awesome. Brendon's never felt so comfortable with so many people at any point in her life. It's like — like being around ten million Jons, or something, except they all have different personalities and she isn't sleeping with any of them.

Really, though, they're all so _funny_ and _smart_ and _fantastic_. They're also pirates. Well, technically they're smugglers, but everyone agrees that pirates just sound cooler.

When the celebrations are over — apparently these guys celebrate at the drop of a hat — and all of Brendon's stuff has been put away, Greta explains it to Brendon, with plenty of (very loud) input from the rest of the crew.

As far as Brendon can understand it, there are two ships, The Hush Sound Is... and The Black Parade. She maybe has to hold in a teeny gasp — of surprise, and excitement — when she hears the second name, because The Black Parade is _famous_. They're the strongest, deadliest pirates on the seven seas. Her own parents used them as a threat: "See, that's what happens when you stray away from the protection of your elders! You could walk into danger and get kidnapped by The Black Parade."

...Which actually ended up working pretty well for Brendon, so.

"Right, except they're not really The Black Parade anymore," Michael interrupts. Brendon sways a little towards his accent. "Captain Way turned the ship over to Ryan and William and then they all went off to retire."

"Except Frank and Jamia!" Sisky butts in to say. "Frank and Jamia come out with us sometimes. They're awesome. They'll just show up in a random port and jump on the ship and start making fun of Gerard and Bob and Mikey and Ray for staying in one place all the time."

"We think Pete tells them where we're going to be," Chris explains reflectively, tilting his head to the side.

"I was getting to that," Greta informs all of them, her hands on her hips. "Shush. Besides, you guys forgot to mention that the whole point of The Black Parade is that they _weren't_ really pirates."

Butcher nods solemnly. "This is true. Gerard would be an artsy stranger traveling with them, and would go into bars and tell stories of their conquests."

"And then all they would have to do was show up and wave their swords around and people would do whatever they wanted!" Sisky adds.

"Right," Greta agrees, firmly retaking control of the story. "And then when they decided to retire — except Frank and Jamia, yes, I _know_ , Adam — Pete, Patrick, Andy and Joe stayed back a little to help Ryan and William get used to captaining —"

"And then they complicated things," Bob states.

"Because that's what Pete Wentz does," Carden declares. It sounds like some sort of motto, or some phrase that gets repeated often enough that everyone knows the words. Brendon approves.

"I want to meet this dude," she says.

"He'll want to meet you too," Greta tells her wryly. "He insists on meeting every new hire. Andy will send a pigeon and we'll find out when."

"How will he know I've been hired?" Brendon wonders.

The crew all share a look, some sort of cross between amused and long-suffering. "Pete knows everything," Bob says. "We've given up trying to figure out how."

"Anyway, the point of the story is that when Pete and his boys were helping Ryan and William, they ended up getting another ship and starting to run a smuggling operation," Greta says, sounding both exasperated and fond. Brendon figures that Pete Wentz must just inspire this contradictory mix of emotions. She definitely wants to meet this guy.

"Not bad smuggling, or anything," Michael explains, waiting patiently while the rest of the crew laughs at him. "Oh, you know what I mean. Not people-smuggling or anything like that."

"He's right," Greta says, nodding. "Sometimes it's something a little dangerous, but other times it's as simple as banned pamphlets or books. We show up in the guise of mostly respectable businesspeople and scope out the territory, and then The Black Parade shows up to cause a distraction. They're good at that." She smiles nostalgically. "And then we smuggle or steal whatever it is we're there for."

"And that's why you're here?" Brendon asks, her eyes wide. "You're going to smuggle something out of here?" This is so _cool_ , she doesn't even know what to say. Possibly this means that she really does have an immoral soul, just like the priest always told her, but. Pirates! Pirates are awesome!

Greta and Bob share an inscrutable look. "Well, sort of," Greta responds. "Jon had — an errand he needed to run, so he switched over to this ship because we can actually stay in a port for a week without causing a panic. And we decided that if we were going to be here, we might as well conduct some business."

"We switch ships a lot," Sisky explains cheerfully.

"Helps us keep from killing each other," Mike Carden says.

"Oh, be quiet, Mike, we all know you're a softy," Greta orders imperiously, waving her hand. She looks at Brendon slyly. "If you're ever scared of Mike, just remember that he's ridiculously, sappily in love with this guy named Kevin who lives on one of the bigger islands in the South Seas and that they met when Mike heroically saved Kevin from a group of terrible ruffians."

"Shut up," Mike mutters, crossing his arms and looking away. Brendon thinks he might be blushing a little.

"So," Bob says. "Any more questions, Brendon?"

"One. Um," Brendon says. "You guys are going to be doing one of your... things at the end of the week?"

"Three days from now, yes."

"Am I going to be helping? Is there anything I should know?"

Greta looks at her consideringly. "We'll start showing you the ropes tomorrow, and decide when the time comes. But we're going to switch you over to The Black Parade when we meet up with them, since that's where the main captain always lives, and so that's where your job description requires you to be."

"About that," Brendon says. "What does a cabin boy really do?" Sisky had started to explain, but then he kept on getting distracted and talking about hats, for some reason.

"Basically, whatever the captain needs you to do," Greta says, shrugging. "Don't worry, Spencer will keep him in line. Also, you'll carry messages and run some small errands for the rest of us, but don't worry, if anything's too much you can always tells us we're being lazy bastards and we should do it ourselves."

"Really?" Brendon asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Yup."

"Oh, and don't pay attention to anything the Alexes ask you to do," Sisky tells her seriously. "Especially Cash."

"He's the Alex with the tattoo on his hand," Butcher says, nodding.

"And you should probably learn the flash codes," Darren adds.

"Oh, the codes!" Greta sighs. "I forgot about those. Well, we've got three days just to idle while Alex, Ryland and William take care of things. We'll teach you what you need to know."

*

"We have to do it tonight," Alex Suarez says the next day, pacing up and down the deck. Ryland and William are still in town, but they sent him back to the ship to explain that the plans need to be moved up. "We've got problems. Some — princess, or duchess, or someone, disappeared, and now a huge swarm of royal guards is going to be coming in two days to search every ship in the harbor."

"And delay everything, so we won't be able to get out," Bob extrapolates, rubbing his temples.

"Disappeared how?" Greta asks quietly. "Dead, run away, or kidnapped?"

"Everyone has a different story," Alex sighs, still pacing. "Are we in range of The Black Parade? Can we flash them, let them know the change in plans?"

"We should be able to," Chris says, staring at a map of Summerside.

"I'm just worried about Jon," Greta admits. "I don't like leaving him here."

"Jon's smart," Butcher tells her reassuringly. "He'll see the guards and figure it out, and we can wait for him at the contingency spot."

"Yeah," Greta says, chewing her lip. She shakes her head, and in a second she's all business. "Right. Sorry, Brendon, but we'll need to get you to The Black Parade as quickly as possible. I'll tell them about you when I flash them. Butcher, be a pirate tonight. Brendon will meet you guys at the retreat point, and you'll make the introductions and then get back here. We'll need your help. Brendon, once Butcher has introduced you and run off, the pirates will take you back to the Parade. When you're all out of the harbor, they're probably going to all jump on you and you won't be able to understand what the hell they're talking about. Ask for Spencer; he'll get everything sorted out."

"Retreat point, ship, Spencer," Brendon says, nodding. "Got it."

"Good. I'm sorry that we don't have the time to ease you into this, but missing women always get everyone riled up." She rolls her eyes. "Duchesses, god."

Brendon tries not to blush. It's not like she _meant_ to cause trouble for them, honestly. All she wanted to do was run away. The trouble just sort of... happened. She's thankful that it took them this long to expand the search, though. And that she found the one ship that's going to be leaving the harbor before the guards come looking for her.

Divine plan, seriously. It has to be.

*

They rush through all the preparations that day; Brendon helps where she can, but mostly she stays out of the way so she doesn't hinder the people who actually know what they're doing. This is mostly her fault, anyway; the least she can do is not screw things up even more.

The retreat point is the Sinatra statue again; the pirates will storm in, wave their swords, and then make a thrilling escape, passing by the statue and grabbing Brendon on their way. They never worry seriously about getting captured; the guards are pretty terrible, and anyway, the watching crowds prefer it when pirates get away, so sometimes they help trip up the guards. It makes for better stories if the notorious outlaws aren't caught, after all.

Brendon waits at the statue with her stuff for what feels like hours, the Summerside nightlife skipping and murmuring all around her. She's a little freaked out, she's not going to lie. What if they _do_ get caught? What if they don't run past the statue? What if they forget about her, or decide they don't need a cabin boy after all?

And then a swarm of sword-waving pirates runs by and she gets dragged into the middle of it, so maybe her worries were a little unfounded in the end.

"Hey Brendon!" Butcher says, grinning exuberantly and managing to sheath his sword while running, which Brendon thinks is pretty impressive.

"Hey, Butcher!" she says, running as fast as she can to keep up with the rest of the group. "How's it going?"

"Life of piracy, you know how it is," he tells her, shrugging and nimbly avoiding a rough patch of cobblestones. The group all turns right, and Brendon finds that she doesn't even have to worry about switching directions; she just gets pushed along with the current. All she has to do is keep running. "So, guys, this is Brendon. He's the new cabin boy, try not to break him."

"We'll try our best," one man, as tattooed as the Butcher, says, laughing. Well, it's really more of a giggle, which Brendon adores. She also adores that he's about as tall as she is, since she was beginning to worry that everyone on The Black Parade was twice her height.

Brendon hops over an abandoned top hat as the Butcher says, "So, I'm going to head to the other ship now. See you guys next ship-kiss."

"Bye!" Brendon pants, as the rest of the pirates yell out some variation of, "See you later."

Butcher turns left when they turn right, and then suddenly everybody piles into a rickety rowboat that doesn't seem strong enough to hold them all, especially not when they're all yelling and laughing and reaching over each other to grab the oars. It's like a boatload of chaos, but somehow they manage to not only not sink, but also to make it to the ship farther out in the water, the dramatically painted letters on its side proclaiming: THE BLACK PARADE.

Brendon stops breathing for a moment when she sees it. It's so — there. And real, and perfect.

"Hurry up!" a voice hisses from over the rail of The Black Parade, and then suddenly a rope swings down.

One of the group — a really tall man, wearing a shade of purple that glows even in the weak moonlight and would almost be obnoxious if Brendon didn't love it so much — grabs the end of the rope and anchors it to a hook in the bottom of the boat. "Alexes?" he whispers. "You first."

Five boys scramble over each other to get to the rope, climbing almost right on top of each other. At least, Brendon thinks they're all boys. She's not entirely sure about the one with the longish, wavy hair; he's kind of pretty. It could go either way.

The tiny tattooed man goes next, followed by two women who, like Greta, wear the swords slung at their hips with absolute authority. Brendon thinks her childhood would have been so much greater if she'd had a couple women like that to be her role models, instead of the prissy duchesses who came to visit and always wore at least four petticoats.

Then Brendon feels a shove at her back, and someone tells her, "Come on, cabin boy, your turn."

She scrambles up the rope the best she can. It's a good thing that she's always liked climbing things; she was climbing trees as soon as she was tall enough to reach the branches. One of her brothers even dubbed her Monkey for a little while. In retrospect, Brendon thinks he might have meant it as an insult. Oh well.

She swings herself over the rail and scoots backwards, flopping down when she estimates herself to be a safe distance away. She can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, though, urging her to get up and jump around, so she clambers to her feet and waits for everyone to make it to the deck, bouncing on the balls of her feet. This is easily the most exciting thing she's ever done, even counting that time when she and Jon snuck away for the entire night and she had to rush to sneak back into her room before breakfast.

"Alright, heave," she hears one woman says, and she bounces over to see them pulling the rowboat up the side of the ship. She helps, grabbing a free section of rope and tugging. They've got the boat halfway up the side of the ship when The Black Parade starts moving. Not just rocking with the motion of the waves, either — actually _moving_ , heading out to sea and away from pursuing royal ships.

Brendon laughs, a little hysterically, and pulls harder, trying to keep her feet under her.

They've worked up a pretty good speed by the time the boat is dripping on the deck, and everybody seems to relax, either dropping to sit down or pulling each other into hugs. Or tackling each other into hugs, in the case of the boys she's pretty sure are the Alexes.

Brendon stands back a little awkwardly, not certain what she should be doing, until someone — the guy who was waiting on the boat for them, she thinks, demands, "Wait, is this the new cabin boy?" Suddenly, all their attention is focused on her.

Brendon is very proud of the fact that she doesn't take two big steps backward. Instead, she waves. "Hi. Greta said I'm supposed to ask for Spencer?"

"Nate, can you steer for Spencer for a little bit?" a man wearing an absolutely fabulous hat asks. Brendon can't see too well, considering that it's the middle of the night, but she's positive that the hat is fabulous. It has feathers on it.

"Sure thing," Waiting On The Boat Man — apparently named Nate — says, running off. In a minute, he's safely ensconced behind the steering wheel, and the man who Brendon is going to assume is Spencer is wandering over.

Meanwhile, Brendon has been surrounded by pirates. Most of them are hugging her or slapping her on the back. Brendon never could have imagined that pirates would be so tactile; it's kind of great. She loves hugging people.

"Sisky must be so happy," she hears someone say, snickering.

When Spencer arrives, everyone takes a step back and lets him look her over. Brendon looks back. Spencer is taller than her, with a beard and eyes that she kind of wants to see in the sunlight. She thinks they're blue, but she wants to be sure.

"Hi," she says, sticking her hands in her pockets and trying not to fidget. It's not a nervous habit, it just comes out of having too much energy all the damn time. It made dinner parties nearly unbearable. "I'm Brendon."

"I figured," he says dryly. "Since I was there when the Butcher said, 'Hey everyone, this is Brendon, he's our new cabin boy.'"

"Well." Brendon shrugs. "I mean, you were waving a sword around at the time, you could have been thinking of other stuff."

He laughs. It's a very nice sound. "Alex, take Brendon's bags belowdecks. We'll do introductions tomorrow, when we can actually see each other." One of the five boys who are twined around each other rushes over, grabbing Brendon's bags and her guitar before she even thinks to protest. It's just — her guitar! What if something happens to it?

"Hey, speak for yourself," Tall Purple Man scoffs. "I can see perfectly well at night. It's the gift of the Cobra."

"Then you can get out the alcohol. I think we need to celebrate another successful night, don't you?"

Brendon joins in the resounding cheer.

 

_The Black Parade, notorious pirate ship_

The rest of the night is a little hazy in Brendon's head, which might have something to do with the two big glasses of ale that somehow ended up in front of her. And, of course, once they were there she kind of had to drink them. It would have been rude not to. She is, however, absolutely positive that she didn't let anyone know that she's actually a girl.

Granted, this might have simply been because everyone on the crew seemed to think of gender-role-bending as a way of life, but hey, it's still a victory.

She might have ended up waltzing around the deck with Tall Purple Man, who seems to be named Gabe, if Brendon remembers correctly. And then she and one of the Alexes had some sort of impassioned debate about pastries, and then she danced a little more, and then she vomited over the railing. Twice. She plans on blaming it on seasickness.

When she wakes up in the morning — late, late in the morning — her head is pounding, but not quite as terribly as she expected. She feels a little nauseous, but for the most part is seems like she got all her seasickness out last night.

Awesome. She hadn't known that could happen. Her cousin traveled by boat once and he said he spent the entire time throwing up.

She tries to shake the bleariness out of her skull before rolling out of her hammock, which is more difficult than you might imagine, and making her way up to the deck. Now that she's not tipsy, she's not entirely certain how she should be acting.

Like normal, it turns out, when she gets hugged in passing by one of the Alexes before he scurries up the rigging.

A man who she's pretty sure is Spencer is leaning with his elbows on the railing, looking out at the horizon. The set of his back and his shoulders is familiar, but the beard is really the dead giveaway.

"Um," she says, walking over to him. "Spencer?"

He looks up at her and smiles, and wow, it turns out last night's instinctual desire to see him in the sunlight was spot-on. That smile is dazzling. (And she was totally right, his eyes are blue.)

Brendon squashes that line of thought. It can lead nowhere good.

"Brendon," he says. "Hey. Sorry your introduction to us was so crazy."

Brendon shrugs. "It was kind of fun," she admits. "And I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything too embarrassing last night?"

"No," he assures her. "But you're very good at the waltz."

Brendon only just manages to bite back her immediate response about years of courtly dance lessons. There's something about Spencer that's very disarming. This could be dangerous. "Thanks," she says instead. "Um, you said something about introductions?"

"Right," he says, turning around to stare at the crew instead of the horizon. Helpfully, he points to each person as he names them. She was right, Gabe is Tall Purple Man. Frank is Tiny Tattooed Man, and the woman he's hanging on is Jamia. Victoria and Nate are the two laughing over a pile of rope.

"And nobody really bothers to tell the Alexes apart," Spencer tells her, waving a hand absently. "They all answer to Alex, anyway."

"Hey!" one of the Alexes says, skidding to a halt in front of the two of them. "We're not all named Alex, okay. I'm Cash, and the little dude with the hair is Ian." Ian flips Cash off and gets back to doing... whatever it is that he's doing. Brendon is very willing to admit that she knows almost nothing about ship life. "Alex DeLeon is up in the crow's nest —" that must be the one who hugged Brendon, whose gender she wasn't entirely sure of last night "— Alex Marshall is steering, and Alex Johnson is off being a ninja or something, it's what he does."

"Thanks," Brendon says, blinking a little at the sudden influx of information. She kind of expects Cash to run off again after that, leaving as quickly as he arrived, but instead he peers at her. She raises her eyebrows, and he steps back, looking satisfied.

"Spencer, can we have a cabin?" he demands, apparently speaking for all four fellow members of his species. "We want a cabin boy."

Spencer sighs. "That's not how it works, Cash."

Cash perks up, looking at Spencer hopefully. "Can we have a cabin boy without having a cabin?"

"No."

Cash deflates, looking like one of Brendon's nieces or nephews when they're denied cookies. Brendon has to stifle her giggle. "Fine," he mutters, slouching away dejectedly — at least until he reaches Ian, when he straightens up and whispers loudly, "He's totally going to say yes one day, I know it!"

"Yeah right," Spencer yells over.

Cash jumps. "How did he hear that?" he demands, still in the whisper loud enough to carry through Brendon's entire house, probably. And Brendon's house was pretty big, so.

"Maybe because you're a douchebag who sucks at whispering?" Ian asks without sounding irritated in the slightest, which is a pretty great feat.

Spencer rolls his eyes and looks back at Brendon. "Don't mind them. They stowed away on the ship two years ago, when we first got it, and then refused to leave."

"Right," Brendon says, nodding solemnly. "I can see why you wouldn't want to abandon a couple of six-year-olds."

Spencer stares at her for a moment, then chuckles. "Greta was right, you're going to be fine here," he tells her, which makes Brendon glow a little on the inside. "So, your name is Brendon? Brendon what?"

Spencer still looks friendly, but this doesn't sound like an entirely innocuous question. "Boyd," she lies calmly, thinking back to the uncle she's named after. It's a common enough last name; not everyone in their family was born rich, after all.

"Brendon Boyd, okay. I'm Spencer Smith," he says. Brendon tests out the sound of it in her head. Spencer Smith. Spencer Smith. Spencersmithspencersmithspencersmith. "Greta didn't have a chance to tell us where you were from."

"Salt City." It's not too far away from her home province of Vegas; Brendon has cousins there, and she can describe the geography well enough to pass if pressed. "I — left, recently."

"And decided to work on a ship? Why?" Spencer is watching her closely. Brendon tries to not get distracted by it, but it's hard. She can feel the heat coming off his body. "Salt City is landbound. You could have chosen something you knew better."

"I needed something new," she says firmly. This is all true. "I needed — I had to leave." She breaks eye contact, looking at the ocean and wrapping her arms around herself. "I couldn't stay."

Spencer's voice is soft when he says, "Yeah, okay." He pats her on the shoulder and adds, "Sorry, I had to know before I let you meet Ryan."

"It's okay, I get it." Brendon does, she really does. If she had a ship and crew as awesome as this, she would want to make sure that newcomers were as trustworthy as possible. "And apparently I still have to get interrogated by someone named Pete?"

"What about Pete?" a voice behind Brendon asks, and she spins around, only just managing not to fall in the ocean.

Before she can help it, she gasps. "Oh my god."

"What?" the man asks, looking at her uncertainly. He's the only one Spencer hasn't named yet, so Brendon's going to assume that he's Ryan. "What is it?"

"Your hat." Brendon knows she sounds reverent, but she can't control it. Besides, at least if she's focusing on the hat she's not thinking about how extraordinarily attractive Ryan is. Really, he's prettier than Brendon could ever hope to be even as a girl. "It's even more amazing than the other one."

Ryan smiles happily, stroking the brim. "Isn't it?" He shakes off his dreaminess and focuses on her face. "Oh! You're the new cabin boy, aren't you?"

"Ryan, this is Brendon," Spencer says, putting a warm hand on Brendon's shoulder. "Brendon, this is Captain Ross. Call him Ryan, everybody else does. He's going to be taking up most of your time sending you on ridiculous errands."

Ryan frowns. "I'm not that bad," he protests.

"No, you're not," Spencer agrees. Brendon twists around to look at him, seeing the look on his face as he looks at Ryan.

Well, that's interesting, she thinks. The Butcher and Sisky are together, the Alexes are apparently involved in some sort of five-way relationship, Gabe spent all last night talking about William, Frank and Jamia seem inseparable, and the captain and the first mate are in love. And might also be in a relationship with somebody named Jon, who had romantic reasons for coming to Summerside that had nothing to do with Spencer and Ryan.

Running away was the best decision she ever made.


	2. Act One

**ACT TWO**

_A hidden cove, where a mysterious vessel is docked..._

"Jon!" Greta hisses, looking around to see if she can spot him.

"Here," Jon says from behind her, and she whirls around. He's alone.

"Oh, sweetie," she says, aching to give him a hug but not sure if he would accept it. Jon's generally good with being used for cuddling purposes, but that doesn't mean he always wants it, especially not when he's just suffered what she imagines is a pretty crushing disappointment. "Can I ask what happened?"

Jon shakes his head minutely, gesturing at The Hush Sound Is... "You know they're only going to ask, too. I'd rather only explain once."

"I can tell them," Greta offers, feeling like she's swimming in uncharted waters. She doesn't know anything about Jon's relationship with this girl, except that he's got Spencer and Ryan and he's _still_ thinking about her, so she must be something pretty damn special. "If you don't want to deal with so many people right now."

Jon sighs and acquiesces; she can tell by the way he lowers his shoulders. You can't be on a boat with someone for so long without learning some of their tells. It makes poker games a lot less interesting, unless you're playing with Gabe. "She just wasn't there, and I couldn't find out where she had gone. It's like she disappeared."

Why do so many girls seem to be disappearing recently? Especially ones who cause so much trouble. "I'm sorry," Greta says, and Jon shrugs.

"It was a long shot anyway. She's probably married already, or something; I know her parents would want to have it arranged by now." He smiles at Greta, who doesn't buy it in the slightest. "It's not a big deal. I have Spencer and Ryan, and the ships. I just hope she's happy."

Greta just nods and resolves to get Jon settled in a cabin as soon as possible, away from pitying eyes. She'll make sure to tell the crew not to bring it up. If Jon doesn't want to talk about it, they won't talk about it.

 

_The Black Parade, the most dangerous pirate ship still sailing_

Ryan loves the new cabin boy. Not only does he help Ryan choose which hat to wear every day, he plays the guitar like he's a professional musician, and he fits in the crew. Ryan may, according to Spencer, occasionally be a moron about other people, but he knows when someone works with his crew, and Brendon _works_. He's cheerful and exuberant enough to keep up with Frank on his insanely energetic days, he works hard enough to suit Spencer, he isn't phased by Gabe's occasional bizarreness, and he's just mouthy enough to fit in, when he isn't rambling.

His never-ending cheerfulness did give Ryan momentary pause, but he got over that when he noticed Brendon's ass. Brendon has a _fantastic_ ass.

What? You can't blame a guy for looking, okay.

"Ryan," Spencer says after Ryan's just spent a very enjoyable five minutes asking Brendon to bend over and get the hatboxes on the bottom shelves.

"What?" Ryan asks innocently, trying to bat his eyelashes. Spencer looks unimpressed, so it must not work as well as Ryan had hoped it would.

"You've already chosen your hat for today. That was totally unnecessary."

"I could be thinking ahead," Ryan protests. Spencer raises one eyebrow, and Ryan weakens. Spencer crosses his arms and cocks his hips, and Ryan folds completely. Spencer knows the effect the arm-hip combo has on him, damn it. Ryan makes a face that could absolutely not, in any sense of the word, be called a pout, as he says, "Fine, it was a little unnecessary."

Spencer's hips are still cocked.

"Fine, completely unnecessary," Ryan amends, "but!" Ooh, this is a good point. Ryan is not only a genius, but an observant genius. "You didn't have to stand there watching him get the boxes."

Spencer's stance shifts slightly, which Ryan is going to take as a win.

"You enjoyed it too," he says triumphantly, crossing his own arms and leaning back. "So there."

"Ryan, Brendon's here to work, not to get hit on," Spencer reminds him.

"I wasn't actually going to make a move," Ryan complains, frowning. He doesn't like it when Spencer impugns his character like that. "I'm not _Jon_ , okay, I'm perfectly happy with the three of us." Ryan isn't bitter, no. Not even a little bit.

Why would he be bitter that Jon is apparently so unsatisfied with their relationship that he needs to go and try to kidnap some girl? Some girl that he hasn't even talked to in more than three years, even. Ryan has no reason to be bitter that Jon has been pining over some girl for longer than he, Spencer and Ryan have been together.

Spencer sighs and lets himself slump, sitting down next to Ryan. "Yeah, I know. I'm not thrilled either, but this is important to Jon." A moment passes, and he adds, "And maybe he won't find her."

Ryan looks away guiltily. "Does it make me a bad person to hope that he doesn't?"

Spencer rests his head on Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan feels their bodies align. "Probably. But at least you're not alone."

They sit for a moment, contemplating how they feel guilty for not feeling guiltier about being terrible people. Ryan does, at least. Then he asks, "Does this mean I can keep on asking Brendon to get things off the bottom shelves?"

Spencer reaches out a hand and smacks him lightly. "Limit it to once a day," he orders after a thoughtful moment. "And only do it when I'm around."

"No problem," Ryan agrees, smiling. He loves it when Spencer's bossy. It's one of the best things about being a pirate.

*

Being a pirate is _awesome_. Brendon knows it down to the very bottom of her soul, okay. It's just a fact of life.

"Hah!" she shouts as she manages to stab Frank in the shoulder. "I rock!"

Admittedly, "stab" has a variable definition. In this case, it means that she manages to lightly poke Frank's shoulder withe the blunt edge of a wooden stick.

He swerves behind her quickly and slaps her ass with his own stick, cackling maniacally as she whips around and glares at him. "No, I rock," he tells her, which is kind of true. Frank is one of the rocking-est people she knows. "And what did I tell you about talking during a swordfight?"

"Shouting random words in French makes you sound more legit to people who don't know anything about French or fencing!" she repeats dutifully, shaking sweat out of her eyes as she smacks his pole with her own. "Touche!"

Brendon does actually know how to speak French. She's not quite fluent, because she never paid enough attention during her lessons, but she knows enough to make conversation. So far she's managed not to let on that she knows more than the occasional phrase, though, because that might invite questions and if questions are invited into the house, she's not sure she can keep the answers from escaping once the door is opened. And answers, of course, are dangerous, because the answer to the question, "Oh, how did you learn French, Brendon?" is, "Funnily enough, my parents arranged for my tutor, M. Lautrec, to travel to our manor from his home in Toulouse, since according to the nobility the only proper way for a countess-to-be to learn French is with a native speaker."

Normal people don't have tutors imported from France. Normal people just know the occasional word that they can yell out in an overexaggerated French accent. Like, say, Frank is doing.

"En garde!" he shouts as they battle across the deck, not doing much more than letting their poles hit each other with loud, cracking sounds. It's much more interesting than proper fencing, which apparently doesn't factor into The Black Parade's style of piracy at all. After all, if you actually duel someone else, one of you could potentially get hurt.

However, Spencer insisted that if Brendon wants to join the crew on their next distraction-providing adventure, she has to be comfortable enough with a sword that she wouldn't stab herself trying to get it out of the sheath. Frank promised that by the time they dropped him and Jamia off at another port in a week and a half, Brendon would be an expert at waving a sword around.

...Plus, it's really fun.

"Bonjour!" Brendon yells, gripping her stick with both hands and subjecting Frank's stick to a sudden barrage of blows. She makes a few half-hearted stabs in his direction, but never really bothers following through.

"Merci!"

The rest of the crew is scattered around the deck, laughing and staying out of their way. Frank already has a reputation for being occasionally over-exuberant with his sword-waving, and Brendon isn't much better.

"Toujours!" Brendon tries not to look at Spencer and Ryan too much, but she occasionally glances over to see if they're enjoying the show. Just because, you know, they're the captain and the first mate and she doesn't want her antics to annoy them. Obviously that's the only reason.

"Escargot!" Frank shouts, and when Brendon starts laughing, he quickly — seriously, Frank moves faster than the speed of light or something, it's ridiculous — jumps forward and skewers her.

Well, he drives his stick into the space between Brendon's arm and her stomach, which totally counts as a killing thrust. Accordingly, Brendon gives a convulsive gasp, dropping her "sword" to the deck with a clatter. Frank looks appropriately triumphant as she falls to her knees, clutching her side and breathing heavily.

"You —" she wheezes desperately, reaching out to him with one clawing hand. "You will pay for this —"

Abruptly, she slumps forward, still reaching out, and falls face-first on the deck. She's just in the middle of spasming her way through an absolutely fabulous death scene when Alex Marshall climbs halfway down the rigging and asks, "Hey Bren, could you grab my notebook from belowdecks?"

"Dying here!" she yells back, getting back to the business of convulsing properly. A decently epic thrash flips her over, and she shudders into stillness, letting her eyes fall open glassily.

After a moment, she gets her feet under her and springs up in a single movement, bowing to her audience. They burst into respectful applause, and Frank gives her an approving high five.

"Nice job," Jamia says, grinning at Brendon, who smiles proudly.

"I do what I can." Performance done, she looks at Marshall. "What was that, Marsh? Now that, you know, you're not interrupting the middle of my awesome death?"

"My notebook?" he asks winsomely. "Since, as cabin boy, you're supposed to run errands and everything?"

"Yeah, right," she snorts. "Sisky already told me I shouldn't do anything you guys ask."

"Seconded," Spencer yells out, and she gives him a much more bashful smile than the one she awarded Jamia.

"But," she continues, because she likes Marshall, "I will be happy to escort you, if you're afraid of the big bad belowdecks. Because I am just that awesome."

She loves the Alexes, all of them. They apparently made some sort of group decision to adopt her that first day on The Black Parade, showing her the basics of travel on the high seas and dragging her up to the crow's nest for mini-parties which mostly involve a lot of giggling. In return, Brendon actually makes an effort to call them all by their own names, which they seem to appreciate.

"I don't know," Victoria says dryly, raising her eyebrows. "I don't trust any of those boys alone with you, Brendon."

Also they hit on her a lot, which Brendon's sure is just a joke, because really, they've already got the five of them. It's funny, though, so usually she plays along.

"Alex Marshall!" she gasps, looking up at him. "I am not that kind of girl!" Whoops, she meant to say "boy". Oh well, hopefully they'll all just take it as part of the joke. "Thank you, Victoria, for protecting my virtue."

"Anything for a fellow lady," Victoria tells her casually, nodding.

Okay, there's another thing. Brendon has a sinking suspicion that Victoria and Jamia have already guessed about her being a girl, since sometimes they drop these sly hints that everybody else takes as jokes. She tries not to think of that, though, since she's really not ready for her cover to be blown. It's not that she doesn't think the rest of the crew wouldn't accept her as a girl, since she's pretty sure Victoria, Jamia and Greta would all kick their asses out of their ears. She just doesn't want to go back to being Brendon Urie, runaway noblewoman. She's kind of enjoying being just Brendon.

And sure, just Brendon happens to be a boy, but you know, on this ship, it's not as hard to fake being a boy as she thought it would be.

Marshall, still hanging from the rigging, frowns. Brendon wonders momentarily if he's annoyed at her, despite none of the Alexes ever having gotten annoyed at Brendon before, until he says, "Hey, is that a ship?"

Spencer reaches for the spyglass he keeps hooked to his belt and lifts it to his eye. "It's The Hush Sound Is...," he announces after a second.

Gabe immediately bounces to his feet, striding to the railing in seconds as if just being those few yards closer to the other ship will somehow enable him to touch William. He's been pining. It's been kind of depressing. "Bilvy!" he yells across the waves.

"Is that a flag?" Ryan asks excitedly, poking Spencer in the side.

When separated, The Hush Sound Is... and The Black Parade communicate through an elaborate system of mirror flashes and flag waves. They call it flashing, and everyone on the ship is fluent except Brendon, who hasn't had a chance to learn it yet.

"No, I think that was one of William's bandannas," Spencer says, and Ryan droops.

"We need to train pigeons," he mutters, slumping against the rail.

"You tried," Nate remarks from the steering wheel. He's one of their main navigators, which Brendon finds priceless simply because the steering wheel is almost as big as he is. "You and Jon. It failed."

"Are you sure Andy won't let us steal any of his, Spencer?" Ryan asks, looking at Spencer with his biggest, most pleading eyes.

The effect is wasted when Spencer doesn't even turn to look at him as he says, "I'm sure." Brendon smiles a little, then snaps to attention as Spencer continues, " _Now_ I see a flag. Brendon, run down and grab the chest with the mirrors and the flags."

He doesn't even make it into a question, which Brendon really should not love as much as she does. She ran away because people were telling her what to do, after all. Somehow it's just different with Spencer.

She finds the chest and runs back up the stairs as quickly as she can, but she's already missed hearing Spencer's translation of the first part of the message. All she can tell is that Spencer and Ryan look awfully relieved.

She carefully sets down the chest where Spencer can reach it and scurries back a few steps. "What happened?" she whispers to Ian, who's the most reliable of the Alexes.

"Jon's errand didn't work," he whispers back. Jon's errand, right — all Brendon knows is that he was trying to find someone, and there was something about love in there. She never attempted to find out the specifics; thinking about people named Jon lead to thinking about one person named Jon in particular. "And we're not supposed to talk about it, which I think Spencer and Ryan will be fine with."

Brendon sees a flag wave on the other ship and nudges Ian. "What's going on now?"

"That's William talking," he explains, staring across. Brendon watches the breeze play with his curls. While they're not quite as hypnotizing as Sisky's hair, and she's not as afraid of any sudden moves they might make while she doesn't have her eyes on them, they still combine into a pretty impressive mop of hair. "He says — Spencer, they're not close enough for me to see clearly. What's he saying?"

"He wants to know if Gabe was yelling his name a few minutes ago, since nobody else on his ship heard it and now they're mocking him," Spencer says with a hint of a smile. It's a good look for him, Brendon thinks, before remembering to shut down that line of thinking.

"Hah!" Gabe cries victoriously, reaching into the chest and grabbing a mirror, which he turns this way and that. Brendon assumes he's sending a message along the lines of, 'Yes, I did, and you can tell those deaf jerks that nothing, not even miles of ocean, can impede our love.'

"Gabe, put down the mirror," Spencer orders firmly, and Brendon tries not to swoon sideways into Ian. From the looks of it, Ryan is having a similar reaction, since he's leaning on the railing and smirking. It's the expression of someone who has been in bed with Spencer in an order-giving mood, and is looking forward to repeating the experience sometime very, very soon. "You know you're not allowed to flash anymore."

"It was one time!" Gabe complains, setting the mirror back in the chest. He crosses his arms over his chest. "And it's not like you and your two _amantes_ haven't been graphic over flash when _you've_ been separated."

Huh. Brendon really wants to hear both those stories. In detail. Very, very heavy detail.

Spencer shakes his head and focuses on his spyglass again. "He says that since we're dropping off Frank and Jamia, they're going to detour and let Mike visit Kevin —"

"Booty call!" Cash shouts, pumping his fists in the air and running around the deck.

"— because Mike is soft and mushy and misses his one true love and it's painful to watch him moping."

If Brendon squints, she thinks she can see a tall figure on the other ship suddenly get tackled to the deck.

"Okay," Spencer says. "Alex, grab the flags and tell them ship-kiss in two weeks." Alex Johnson shrugs and complies. "If we haven't gotten pigeons from Pete by then, we'll figure something out."

Brendon sits on a bench nearby, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back as she soaks in the sun. She doesn't need to see this; she's not going to understand it, anyway. She's perfectly willing to just sit here, listening to Spencer.

She hears a rustle and looks over to see that Ryan has joined her at the bench. "Hey," she says, and he looks up, away from her throat.

"Hey," he says, the corner of his mouth starting to turn up. "I figured I didn't need to stand there watching, either."

"But what if they need your help to decide something?" she asks, even though her time on both ships has taught her that for someone who's supposedly captain, Ryan doesn't really do much in the way of running the ship. According to Nate, Ryan's liable to get distracted by a pretty sword or a brightly-colored bird, and then spend the rest of the morning painting or writing bizarre, metaphor-laden prose. Or porn. Apparently he writes a lot of porn.

Ryan laughs, and Brendon catches herself swaying towards him almost subconsciously. "No captain of The Black Parade has ever really been the one making decisions. It's all about the first mate. Gerard always let Brian and Bob handle everything."

"So what does the captain do, then?" she wonders curiously.

"We're in charge of going to taverns, pretending to be weird, artsy strangers, and spreading wild stories about The Black Parade," Ryan explains. Somehow he's shifted closer on the bench, so their shoulders are brushing. Brendon tries not to think about it. "And we get to wear the awesome hats. That's how Gerard convinced me to take on the job."

"Sounds fun," Brendon says, grinning. "Almost as fun as being a cabin boy."

"They both have their perks," Ryan agrees solemnly, looking at her, one lone curl hanging almost in his eyes, and wow, isn't that annoying for him? You know, as a good employee, Brendon really should reach out and brush it away. A cabin boy has to do the little things for his (or her, whatever) captain, it's really in her job description —

"Brendon!" Spencer calls over, turning to look at her with one hand propped on his waist. Brendon jerks her head up and almost falls off the bench. "Everyone you met says hi, and William and Ryland say they can't wait to meet you."

"I can't wait to meet them either," Brendon says, swinging her feet happily and not quite daring to look over at Ryan yet. "And tell Sisky I'm glad he came up to me in that tavern!"

"Is he the reason you won't give in to our advances?" Cash demands, frowning at Brendon. "Do I need to duel with him for your affections?"

"Nah," Brendon assures him. "I totally love you guys best." When she peeks over at Ryan, he's smiling.

*

"Brendon, I left a map in the cabin. Could you grab it for me?" Spencer asks, his hands lightly resting on the steering wheel. Brendon grins and gives him a thumbs up before bouncing off. Spencer thinks he could really come to appreciate having a cabin boy who actually does his job; Sisky tended to reply to requests with variations on, "Nah, I'd really rather not." He's better off as one of the general crew, who never really seem to do much of anything until swords need to be waved.

When Brendon comes back, map in hand, Spencer says, "Stay and talk to me for a minute." Brendon's been spending a lot of time with Ryan recently, after all, talking very seriously about hats, scarves, and poems. Brendon says he isn't a huge fan of poetry; Ryan is trying to change that with some sort of cunning plan to start with Beowulf and lure Brendon in.

Spencer's willing to admit that the increasingly-frequent sight of Brendon and Ryan lying on their stomachs on the captain's bed, pointing at various lines in a book, has made him think that he should try to get to know Brendon a little better.

It's not that Spencer doesn't approve of Brendon; if he didn't, The Black Parade would have made an unplanned stop at a convenient port to drop off a minor annoyance. But besides his brief interrogation of Brendon, the two of them haven't really had a conversation.

If Ryan were listening to Spencer's internal monologue, he would probably make some sort of comment at this point about Spencer just wanting to talk to Brendon because Brendon is hot, which isn't true. Mostly. Except for the bit about Brendon being hot, obviously, but, seriously, every member of the crew on both ships is hot. That doesn't _mean_ anything.

"Sure," Brendon agrees cheerfully, only looking slightly wary. "What about?"

"How's everything going for you so far?" Spencer wonders.

"Great!" Brendon bounces up and down on his toes, smiling excitedly. "Everyone has been so nice. And being a pirate rocks! I don't know why anyone would want to be anything else."

"Better than whatever you left?" Spencer asks, even though he told himself he wouldn't ask. He's incredibly familiar with people who just want to keep their pasts behind them — hell, he's sleeping with one of those people. Ryan would be happy if he never had to think about his family again.

And then, on the other hand, he's also sleeping with Jon, who loves his past so much that he had to go try to kidnap it so he could bring it into his present. Spencer doesn't mind acknowledging the past every so often, but honestly, that seems a little extreme.

Brendon is clearly the exact opposite of Jon, because all his energy suddenly seems to drain when Spencer asks that question. "I — yeah," he says, interrupting himself and watching Spencer cautiously, the smile gone. "I'd, um. Rather not talk about it."

"Okay," Spencer agrees, trying to keep an eye on Brendon without being too obvious about it. He thinks Brendon might be hiding something — not a bad something, so figuring it out isn't a priority, but. Spencer likes to know what's going on on his ships, and he doesn't want Brendon to feel like he has to hide anything from them. "So. Your sword-waving lessons? How are those going?"

Brendon brightens minutely. "Pretty well," he says, his mouth starting to quirk into a smile again. It's a very nice mouth. "Jamia's helping too, now. Do we really have to drop her and Frank off? Couldn't we just keep them here?"

Spencer laughs. "I think we've all asked them that at one point or another, but they have their own things to get back to. Also, if you try to keep Frank anywhere for too long, he starts jumping around like a caged monkey." Brendon slants Spencer a skeptical look, glancing down at where Frank is currently getting his kicks climbing up the rigging and jumping off, and Spencer corrects, "Okay, _more_ like a caged monkey. It's not pretty."

After a second, Brendon laughs, too. "Fine. I —" He breaks off, making a confused face. Spencer follows his line of sight down to the deck, where — surprise, surprise — Cash is waving his arms around, trying to signal to Brendon. It looks like he's playing a game of dirty charades, although to be fair it probably only looks dirty because it's Cash, and not because of the signals involved. "What?"

Cash sketches out a square with his hands, and then makes a roof shape above his head. Then he points frantically at Brendon.

"Oh!" Brendon says in sudden comprehension. He looks at Spencer, smiling wryly. "I think Cash wants me to ask you if the Alexes can have a cabin. Apparently they really want me as their cabin boy."

"Not a chance, Cash!" Spencer shouts down. Cash makes a face, and Spencer turns his attention away.

"Not ever?" Brendon wonders innocently, his face completely straight. "You haven't ever thought about quarantine?"

Spencer can appreciate a sense of humor like that. "We're pretty sure it's not contagious," he tells Brendon solemnly. "Although you should probably be extra careful, with the way the Alexes surround you."

It's really none of his business if the ship's resident fivesome wants to absorb Brendon and become a sixsome, although for the life of him Spencer can't work out the logistics of it. Six people in a bed just seems like a tangle of limbs. Really, though, not his business, which is why he isn't asking about it.

But, you know, if Brendon decides to respond to his completely rhetorical joke, he won't complain.

"I think they're joking?" Brendon asks, sounding like his voice can't decide whether it wants to be amused or uncertain. It settles on bemused. "I mean, you'd think that once you've already got that many people, you wouldn't need to add in anyone else."

"You'd think," Spencer murmurs.

You'd think that once you've got a good thing going, you wouldn't feel the need to convince someone else to join, but Jon's got that fixation on his teenage sweetheart, and Spencer's pretty sure that Ryan wouldn't object at all if Brendon wanted to join the three of them one night.

It would have to be the three of them, of course; they couldn't just make a decision like that without Jon, even if Brendon were to sneak into Spencer and Ryan's room in the middle of the night and —

Spencer realizes suddenly that Brendon, his eyes wide, is staring at Spencer's hands, which have apparently started caressing the handles of the steering wheel completely of their own volition.

He jerks his hands off the wheel and Brendon snaps his gaze up, both of them blushing and looking away from each other.

"Anyway!" Brendon says, his voice high. "So, uh. Alexes."

"Alexes," Spencer agrees, shaking his head resignedly. There are very few circumstances, he thinks, which would ever lead to him admitting that he finds the Alexes entertaining — or, god forbid, that he actually likes having them around. Maybe if he's really, really, really drunk. Or high. Or if he or one of the Alexes were in some sort of imminent doom situation. Even then, though, it's a bit of a stretch.

In fact, there's a higher probability of his admitting that he's somewhat attracted to Brendon, and Spencer's pretty determined not to admit _that_ under pain of death, so.

After a moment of silence, Brendon relaxes, slumping forward with his elbows resting on the railing that overlooks the main deck. Spencer can see Brendon's partial profile and the line of his back, and Brendon can see... whatever it is the crew is getting up to. Spencer doesn't think he wants to know.

"Alexes," Brendon laughs fondly. "You said they stowed away on the ship? Why am I not surprised?"

"Probably because you've spent more than five minutes in their presence," Spencer says wryly. He knows that the Alexes do, in fact, have distinguishing features — Ian has the hair, Johnson is surprisingly efficient, Deleon looks kind of like a girl, Marshall is quiet, and Cash is crazy and has the terrible tattoo — but really, it's easier to just think of them as one unit. It's not like you generally got one without the others, anyway.

"Seriously, though, five teenagers? Creeping aboard the scariest pirate ship ever?" Spencer catches the glance that Brendon sneaks at him, just a quick look sideways and up through dark lashes. "And you guys, what, just didn't notice?"

Spencer's voice is as dry as possible when he says, "Let's just say that Ryan is never allowed to be the only one standing guard again."

Those days seem so far away, two years ago when William was dragging Spencer off to vet potential recruits, and they thought that leaving the ship in a cove so deserted it wasn't on any map they had ever seen would make up for Ryan's inefficiencies as a guard — and really, Spencer means that in the most loving way possible. It's not even that they'd overestimated Ryan's abilities; they'd just underestimated the Alexes' adventure-detection skills. It's like they have some sort of compass that points directly to where they can get themselves in the most trouble.

Brendon laughs again and flips himself around, his elbows still on the rail but in an entirely different direction. It's easier for Spencer to look him in the eyes now, which might but also might not be a good thing. "So, they snuck in. I got personally recruited by Sisky in a tavern. Do you hire anybody normally?"

"At this point, I'm not even sure what normal is." Spencer matches Brendon's grin with a small smile of his own, continuing, "Besides you guys, we got all of the crew through mutual friends. Pete brought some, William knew a bunch of people, and Gabe dragged a few more in."

William and Gabe brought their friends first, actually; it was only when the ship started getting crowded, and they came upon the idea of getting a second ship, that Pete suggested Greta, Chris, Bob, and Darren. Spencer doesn't mention that his and Ryan's own contribution — Brent — is indirectly the reason that Brendon has a job right now. If Brent hadn't left, after all, there wouldn't have been an empty position left for Siska to fill, and he might have stayed a cabin boy.

"And who brought Gabe?" Brendon wonders, twisting to look over his shoulder at Gabe and fighting to hold back snickers. Spencer looks, too, although he still has absolutely no idea what Gabe is doing. It involves rope, obviously, as well as Ryan, Marshall, an old crate, and a large bottle of syrup. "Or was he a gift from the Cobra?"

"Just a gift from William. We weren't allowed to leave without him, because they're soulmates or something." That was actually how William had introduced him, if Spencer remembers correctly — and he's pretty sure he does, since an introduction like that is hard to forget. 'Spencer, Ryan, this is Gabe, we're pretty sure we were destined to fall in love.'

Spencer can't decide if he's just imagining the wistfulness in Brendon's voice when Brendon says, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Spencer tells him, nodding. Maybe Brendon is just a hopeless romantic. It would explain a lot about his friendship with Ryan. "It's pretty epic, according to them."

Brendon is quiet for a moment, and Spencer looks over to find that he's got a shit-eating grin on his face. "You know," Brendon muses dramatically, "Ryan's been teaching me about epic poems, and he said that most of them were written to be sung."

Cash might not be contagious, but Spencer's beginning to worry that Ryan is. He raises his eyebrows. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?" he asks dubiously.

"You sound like you don't think I can do it!" Brendon exclaims. "I'm insulted, First Mate Smith." He doesn't sound insulted. He sounds delighted.

"I don't know..." Spencer trails off, trying to keep a straight face. It's not that he cares one way or another if Brendon actually does this, of course. He's just... indulging Brendon to keep up crew morale. Yeah, that sounds about right. "You really think you can write a song about Gabe and William?"

"Are you challenging me?" Brendon demands, his eyes gleaming. "Because I want you to know, I can totally do it."

Spencer meets his eyes. "Prove it," he says, smirking.

Almost before Spencer is done speaking, Brendon flies down the stairs to the main deck, where he heads over to Cash and punches him in the shoulder. "What'd you do with my guitar, asshole?" Cash points to Alex Deleon, who points to Brendon's guitar case, which someone tied to the mast. Spencer has absolutely no clue who or why. It could have been any of the crew; they're all pretty crazy, after all.

Guitar in hand, Brendon dashes back up to Spencer, who stares at him with amused patience. "Okay, so," Brendon begins, slightly out of breath, "I've already got one in mind, do you want to hear?"

"Sure," Spencer says slowly, like his voice is trying to make up for how quickly Brendon was speaking.

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"You think you're ready for this?"

Spencer tries not to laugh. "Play the damn song!" he orders.

"If you're sure..."

"Brendon!"

With one last muted laugh, Brendon begins strumming. The melody is vaguely familiar, but Spencer doesn't really recognize it until Brendon starts singing, "Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world —"

Spencer takes his hands off the steering wheel so that he can poke Brendon in the side repeatedly. It's a generally effective tactic when he uses it on Jon and Ryan, and it works like a charm with Brendon, who immediately stops singing, too busy squirming away and breaking into peals of laughter.

"Okay, okay!" he protests, breathless, and Spencer relents, giving him a warning look. "No more, I promise. Just my songs, from now on."

"You'd better," Spencer threatens. "Or else."

"Or else what?" Brendon challenges cockily, smirking.

Spencer raises his eyebrows. "Or else I'll make you scream," he promises, which... comes out slightly differently than he intended. He and Brendon stare at each other for a moment before they both cough and look away quickly.

"So!" Brendon says. "Song. Tell me how they met and I will set it to music."

Spencer clears his throat — it's become dry all of a sudden — and begins.

*

With a sigh, Brendon slips down into her hammock, stretching and shifting slightly to get comfortable. The hammock sways, but she's used to it, now. She's used to a lot of things now, like the way the boat is always rocking under her feet ever so slightly, and the constant, light spray of sea water when she sits within five feet of the rails. Life at sea is easier than she thought it would be, and she has no idea why; after all, she grew up in a family that, in general, stayed as far away from water as possible. It's how she knows that Cash is wrong when he insists that she must have been born on a ship, she's picking up ship life so quickly.

Cash. He still hits on her ten times a day, on average; the rest of the Alexes do it too, if not nearly as frequently. She's still pretty sure they aren't serious, but even if they are, she already knows she can't give in. After all, it probably wouldn't take them long to discover that she's lacking... parts that are important when you're a man.

(Honestly, she's surprised she hasn't given herself away already; she just blesses every god she can think of that so many people on The Black Parade value privacy, and that she doesn't have to worry about a certain monthly event most women do. She has no idea how her parents managed to arrange a marriage for her, considering that she can't have children. It must have been an older man, maybe a widower who already had heirs of his own and just wanted a young wife he didn't have to worry about knocking up. Good riddance to him, then, but her infertility does make life easier. Divine plan, seriously.)

She has given the offer thought, though — more thought than she really wants to admit. Here's the thing, though: she likes sex. She's pretty sure it hasn't been so long since she had sex — since Jon — that she's forgotten. She remembers those weeks — those two, great, awesome weeks — like they were yesterday.

She likes sex and she misses sex and everybody else on the damn ship is _having_ sex, which is really unfair. She's heard the Alexes going at it — hard to miss, when they all sleep in the same room — and she knows Nate and Victoria took advantage of their brief stay in Jersey when they dropped Frank and Jamia off. (Plus, she's seen enough of Victoria's discreet attempts to seduce Nate, and Nate's equally subtle attempts to seduce Victoria, to know that the two of them will probably have an onboard sex life in a little while.)

Gabe might not be having sex right now, but he'll see William in a little while, and anyway, it's only been two weeks. Brendon hasn't had sex in almost four years.

Yeah. Four years. She's pretty sure that she can be excused for finding the idea of five guys and one her more than a little tempting.

Not so tempting that she's going to give in, of course. Besides, if she was going to have sex with anyone on the ship, it would be — oh, _god_ —

Apparently, they're a little behind schedule, so Spencer was extra bossy today, ordering everyone around and trying to make up time. Brendon and Ryan found themselves sharing smiles for most of the day, secret, fond, "Oh, Spencer," looks, and Brendon's not sure if it was her imagination or what, but Ryan's smiles seemed to get more and more sly as the day went on.

Sly, or maybe even inviting.

Brendon dares a brief peek around; everyone is lying calmly in their respective hammocks. She doesn't think anyone pays attention to her as she lets her head fall back into her pillow.

Anybody on the ship —

Oh, she would let Spencer boss her around in a heartbeat. He could boss her right up against a wall, or into that huge bed in the captain's quarters, the one she almost trips over every time she enters the room. And all the time, Ryan would be smiling like he was today, except he wouldn't be so far away this time, out of arm's reach when she's just aching to touch. He would be right beside her, that sly smile pressed into her skin, only dropping when he kissed along her neck or whispered dirty suggestions into her ear.

So, so dirty — fucking her over the rail so she swallows sea spray with every gasp, making her moan loud enough that they could hear her all the way down in the hold, tying her to the headboard with one of his ever-present scarves.

And she would gasp and press herself even harder into Spencer, who would be right there, his thigh between hers, reaching over her shoulder to draw Ryan into a deep, possessive kiss, like the one she saw a few days ago when she stumbled across them in the galley. This time, though, she wouldn't have to back away quietly, hoping they hadn't noticed; this time, she could watch, and then let Spencer draw her into a kiss of her own, and then spin her around so her ass pressed into his crotch as she and Ryan kissed.

Their hands, she thinks dreamily, would span almost across her waist, and she could just let herself melt bonelessly, sure of being caught between them. And then one of them would reach under her shirt — Spencer, she thinks, Spencer would smooth his hands up her sides and then reach to get his knife and cut away the binding over her chest without even scratching her. She'd make them take off their shirts, too, luxuriate in all that skin; it's been so long since she's stripped someone naked, run her hands and lips over every part of his body.

They could all go inside the cabin, she thinks, pressed together all the while, and —

She stifles a gasp, her eyes flying open as she looks around again. It doesn't look like anyone is awake, but then, it's fucking dark in here. Anybody could be lying in their hammock and listening to her. Fuck, Cash could be listening, and he'd never let her hear the end of it.

She tries to force her heart to stop pounding. It doesn't work.

It's too good of an idea to ever come true, but also too good to resist. The only way it could be better was if their Jon was her Jon, if when Spencer and Ryan walked her inside the captain's cabin he followed, kicking the door shut and watching the three of them with the darkened eyes she remembers so well. She'd reach out to him, wordlessly invite him to join them, and he'd walk over —

No. _No._ That isn't real, it never will be, and if she keeps on dreaming and fantasizing and _wishing_ any longer then it's just going to be even more painful when she has to come back to earth.

Spencer and Ryan aren't hers and aren't interested in her. They don't even know she's a girl. And they've already got a third person, got an apparently amazing relationship with Jon, their Jon, who is not and never will be her Jon.

Her life is good as it is. It's better than she could have ever imagined it would be, back home. She should learn to be happy with the great things she already has and stop sitting and waiting and wishing for things she's never, ever going to have.

But if she could...


	3. Act Three

**ACT THREE**

_The Black Parade, home of the dangerous renegade, Captain Way_

Brendon wakes up one morning and quickly gets dressed, just like always. She's glad that her nightshirt is so big and billowy; it means she can change into her clothes without revealing more than she wants to. Not that it truly matters, since she gets up earlier than the rest of the crew, but you never know when someone's going to get hit by insomnia and start wandering around aimlessly. It's lucky for her that most of the crew are deep, late, sleepers, though.

After she's dressed — and wishing idly that she could borrow Victoria's razor and shave her legs, even though the hair works for her disguise — she quietly makes her way to the captain's cabin, avoiding creaking stairs and walking almost silently across the empty deck. She can't decide if it's ghostly, cool, or lonely without the rest of the crew there shouting and laughing.

When she hears stirring from inside, she knocks. Ryan told her to just walk in, but she's been pretty set on knocking ever since she opened the door while Spencer was in the process of waking Ryan up. With his mouth. Ryan had had to wait an hour for her to come back and consult with him about his hat for the day.

"Come in!" an indistinct voice says, so she opens the door — and stops dead.

"You're not Ryan," she manages to say without squeaking. He definitely isn't Ryan, she knows that much. Spencer isn't with him, after all. Also, this man is taller and has even nicer hair.

"Indeed I am not," he tells her, still facing away and rummaging through one of the cabinets. "He and Spencer departed for The Hush Sound Is... in the middle of the night, while I swung over here to become captain. And to see Gabe."

"What — oh!" Brendon says, comprehension dawning like a sudden burst of light. Or some other simile, whatever. She and Ryan haven't really gotten to analogies in their poetry discussions. "You must be William."

She's heard a lot about William, most of it confusing, so a few days ago she found Victoria and asked for clarification. She's a little intimidated by Victoria sometimes, but Victoria always seems to know what's going on. Everyone, it turns out, acts like William is the captain too because he _is_ the captain, too. He and Ryan have some sort of a system worked out where they both switch on and off pretending to be the notorious Captain Way of The Black Parade. It has something to do with them both liking the hats. Also, The Black Parade has a bigger bed.

The two ships must have met up in the middle of the night, but Brendon had always thought ship-kiss happened during the day. Huh. Maybe they wanted it to be a surprise this time.

"And you must be the new cabin boy," he says, and finally turns around to face her. Brendon's a little awed by how gorgeous he is. He, in turn, seems to be struck by something about her, because he immediately smiles broadly. "Wait, you _are_ Brendon, right? The new cabin boy?"

Brendon coughs, shifting uncertainly from one foot to the other. "Um. Yes?"

If anything, William's smile widens. It makes him look even prettier, but it also makes Brendon just that much more anxious. "Tell me, do they actually believe you're a boy, or are they just humoring you?"

Half of Brendon wants to run away, half wants to confess all, half wants to laugh and deny it, and the last half — wait, that's way too many halves. Whatever, some fraction of Brendon finally takes charge and calmly says, locking her hands behind her back, "I could ask the same of you, sir." Snark is, after all, practically the second language on The Black Parade.

William looks delighted. "You're sassy! I think I'm going to like having you as my cabin not-actually-a-boy." Brendon's pretty sure he means it, too. There's something almost painfully sincere about William that she immediately appreciates. She thinks she'll enjoy having him as captain, even if she already misses Ryan and Spencer like she would miss a limb. A limb that she enjoys looking at as well as having around.

"Um, I'd kind of appreciate it if you wouldn't tell anyone I'm..." she begins, gesturing vaguely to her chest and crotch in the hopes of conveying her lack of manliness. "You know?"

"Of the female gender? Possessed of a womb? Lacking a set of male bodily organs? Unable to pee standing up?"

Brendon actually isn't sure about the last one, since she's never really tried it. Still, it's the principle of the thing. "Yeah," she says, ignoring the loud thump that comes from somewhere beneath their feet. Someone probably rolled out of their hammock.

"Don't worry about it," William assures her. "And you'll ask me if you need anything, right?" He looks so concerned that Brendon really can't do anything but nod. She's about to say something — what, she's not entirely sure, but running on impulse works for her sometimes — when he looks over her shoulder and adds, "Although speaking as your captain, I believe that right now it would be in your best interests to step to the side. I think that Gabe just discovered the switch."

Brendon just barely manages to slide to the left as Gabe bolts straight past her, through the open doorway. William throws himself towards Gabe, and they meet in the middle, wrapping long, graceful limbs around each other's lanky bodies, lips pressed together as if they're never planning to detach. Just as William hooks his legs around Gabe's waist, Gabe stretches a foot out behind him and kicks the door shut.

Suddenly, Brendon's alone on the deck again. Oh well; if she's not going to spend upwards of half an hour debating hat choices with Ryan, she can go back down to the crew's sleeping quarters and see who else swung over in the middle of the night. And maybe if she's very, very quiet, she can wake up Deleon and they can team up to push Cash out of his hammock. It might not be as good as sharing a comfortable eyeroll with Spencer when Ryan starts going off on one of his tangents, but she's pretty sure it'll still be fun.

 

_The Hush Sound Is..., semi-respectable merchant vessel harboring a big secret_

Jon's only half awake when Ryan sits bolt upright and hisses, "Spencer!" sounding far too awake and horrified for this hour of the morning, especially considering what they all got up to last night. Jon was very appreciative of the surprise ship-kiss.

He'd shown it, too. Twice. He's feeling kind of smug right now.

"What?" Spencer moans, reluctantly pulling his head out from underneath his pillow. Spencer always sleeps on top of one pillow, with another one over his face. Jon's never understood, but it's Spencer, so at least there's no need to worry that he'll accidentally smother himself in his sleep. Now, if it were Ryan, they might need to stage an intervention or something. "I'm sleeping."

"You're totally not," Ryan tells him, rolling his eyes. "Spencer! We forgot Brendon!"

Screw sleeping. All of a sudden, Jon is as awake as if he'd just mainlined three cups of expresso. "Brendon?" he demands, turning onto his side to stare at Ryan. "You guys found her?" Why didn't they just tell him? Why didn't they swing over with her?

Ryan waves a hand dismissively. "Not your Brendon, cabin boy Brendon. He's a dude. It's totally different."

Jon slumps back into the mattress, feeling more disappointed than he thinks he should considering how hard he's been trying to get over it. He hadn't found Brendon, and he didn't have any idea where she was, so he probably never would. He just has to get used to that, and not take Spencer and Ryan for granted. They're the best things in his life, them and the sea.

"Ryan," Spencer sighs, rolling over to look at Ryan, who's sandwiched between them. "We didn't forget him. He's the cabin boy, which means he's assigned to wait on the main captain. Right now, that's William. Remember, you left all your hats there for him?"

Thank god, Jon thinks. He loves Ryan, and he even loves the hats, in their own way, but he really doesn't want to be sucked into another argument about whether or not it's permissible to wear hats in bed. Ryan is so convinced that his ideas are great. Jon... only agrees sometimes.

"But who's going to help me pick out my outfits?" Ryan demands, sounding worried.

"You picked out all your outfits just fine before," Spencer assures him, patient despite obviously wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep. It's one of the things that comes along with loving Ryan Ross; you generally humor him even at his most ridiculous. Well, mostly.

"Wow, this cabin boy really spoiled him, didn't he?" Jon asks, smiling despite himself. He still can't bring himself to say the name.

"Yeah, pretty much," Spencer agrees fondly. "Although to be fair, I think they both enjoyed it. The first thing Brendon said to Ryan was about his hat." And they all know that a compliment to Ryan's hats will immediately endear you to him, come hell or high water. Unless you follow it up by insulting Spencer, Jon, either of the two ships, or Gerard Way (in that order), in which case he'll probably hold a grudge against you for the rest of his life. "And they talked about poetry and shit."

"We have a connection, Spencer," Ryan huffs. "Also, he has a really nice ass. Spencer! How could we have left that ass on another ship?"

"He's a person, Ryan, not just a body part," Spencer says tiredly. Jon wonders if this is a discussion they've had often, and feels something curl in his stomach uncertainly. He has absolutely no right to be annoyed if Ryan has a crush on the cabin boy. Hell, he spent a week on the mainland searching for his old girlfriend. He doesn't have a leg to stand on.

He's not jealous, not really. Not exactly. It just... gives him pause, that's all.

"I know," Ryan says, rolling his eyes. Yeah, this is definitely a conversation they've had before. "Come on, you know Gerard would be disappointed in me if I objectified anyone. I know he's a person. He's a person who is very funny and nice and cheerful, and he also happens to have a great ass. I'm capable of appreciating all of his assets, thank you very much."

"Ryan wants to sleep with him," Spencer says, sounding off-handed, but Jon is not that easily fooled. He knows that Spencer is watching him, trying to catalogue his response.

Accordingly, Jon tries to keep it as bland as possible, settling for raising his eyebrows non-judgmentally and asking, "Oh really?" in a mild voice. Jon can beat Spencer's ass at casual any time.

"Spencer does too," Ryan pouts, before looking over at Jon and widening his eyes pleadingly. "You'll love him, Jon, you really will."

Funny; Jon remembers telling Ryan and Spencer that exact same thing about a different Brendon.

"I'm sure he's a great guy," Jon tells them, shrugging.

"And besides, it's not like you can complain," Spencer adds with a hint of bite. "What with your ex-girlfriend and all."

She's not really his ex, but clearly this isn't the point. Maybe Jon deserves that, somewhat. He never wanted them to feel like — no, screw it, he should be saying this out loud.

"I never wanted you to feel like I was choosing her over you, or anything like that," he tries to explain. He's not sure how well he's doing, but hopefully they'll give him the benefit of the doubt. "I love you two so much. Brendon doesn't have anything to do with my feelings for you guys, because those are never going away."

It's sappy, but true. He can't imagine not loving Spencer or Ryan. But then again, he can't imagine not loving Brendon, either. She wasn't his first girlfriend, but she was the first one who meant something — the first one who meant anything, the first one who meant everything. He's not ashamed of wanting her back in his life; after all, he never wanted her to leave it in the first place.

Loving Spencer and Ryan is never going to take away from missing her, but missing her is never going to take away from loving Spencer and Ryan.

"I know, I know," Ryan says, making a face. Suddenly, he smoothes out his wrinkled nose and tries to look innocent, which fails utterly and also makes Jon immediately suspicious. "But you know, if you wanted to make up for emotional damages or whatever, you could think about having sex with Brendon."

Jon laughs hesitantly. "I don't know. I mean, I haven't even met the guy." And he's not sure he could ever be in a relationship with someone named Brendon. He thinks it might hurt too much.

"You don't have to agree, just say you'll think about it," Ryan pushes, shoving lightly at Jon's chest, just as they hear a tapping at the door.

"Ryan, Jon doesn't have to do anything," Spencer orders, one hand on his hip despite the fact that he's lying down. He still looks fierce. "Now go get the door, since you're obviously the most awake out of all of us."

Ryan grumbles, but he can't resist Spencer's orders. He flounces out of bed, tugging on a pair of boxers — they look like they're Spencer's, but Jon isn't sure — and opening the door. A pigeon swoops in, a message tied to its tiny avian foot.

Ryan takes it and reads it, humming to himself. "Pete says after we do whatever heist we're planning this weekend — do you think he's annoyed that we didn't wait for him to give us a location? He doesn't sound annoyed, but you never know, with Pete — we should all head over to Clan Island for a little while, a few weeks maybe. He'll interrogate Brendon while we're there."

Jon's glad that Ryan's the one reading the message, since Jon can generally only comprehend half of what Pete says in his messages. The combination of his handwriting and bizarre shorthand is a killer.

"Alright, tell him that sounds good," Spencer tells Ryan, who hesitates, staring at the pigeon. " _Ryan_."

"I'm just saying, it's not like Andy is going to miss one!" Ryan protests, sneakily closing the door. The pigeon just perches calmly on a bookshelf, staring at them all. Jon's seen Andy use that particular look. "Just one pigeon, Spence?"

Personally, Jon can't fault Ryan for this one. He totally wants one of Andy's trained pigeons. Not only would it be useful, they're just plain cool. However, he really doesn't think that stealing one is a good idea, since Andy might be a pacifist, but that doesn't mean he can't kick all of their asses.

"No," Spencer insists. "Write the damn note and let the poor bird go already."

Ryan reluctantly obeys, watching wistfully as the pigeon swoops outside, return message attached to his leg. The crew of The Black Parade are probably receiving a pigeon of their own right about now.

"Now get back here," Spencer says, beckoning at Ryan and smirking at Jon. "If you're going to wake me up so early with one of your hissy fits, I at least want to get some morning sex out of it."

Ryan and Jon are only too happy to comply.

 

_The Black Parade, pirate ship extraordinaire_

"Brendon! Light of my life, pearl of my heart." Cash strides up to Brendon, his arms spread wide.

"Cash Colligan, my knight in slightly tarnished armor," Brendon greets him cheerfully. She's never met a knight, which she finds regrettable. A knight would definitely be cooler than the innumerable lords and curates who had paraded through Urie Manor. Unfortunately, knights are out of fashion right now; royal guards are all the rage. Brendon doesn't understand it. The uniforms aren't _that_ nice.

Cash plops down to sit next to Brendon. They're on the bow, just far enough from the main deck that Brendon can indulge her curiously reflective mood, but not so far that she'll miss anything interesting.

She's been alternating between fiddling with her guitar and people-watching. Gabe and William are holding court on the main deck; Brendon didn't think they'd leave the cabin for days, but they're just chilling, snug against each others' sides. Apparently Gabe was telling the truth when he described them as snugglebuds.

"What's up, man?" Cash demands, sounding concerned. It takes Brendon a moment to realize that by "man", he means her. She's getting used to this whole boy thing, but she can still be caught off guard sometimes. "Something got you down?"

Brendon shrugs, picking out a melody on the guitar. "Nah. Just thinking."

"About me?" he presses, before the urge to beatbox overwhelms him and he's practically forced to give in. Brendon modifies her plucking to better accompany him, rhythmically speaking.

Honestly, she doesn't know what she was thinking about. She'd skipped from thought to thought like a really flat rock on the surface of her mind-lake (and no matter how encouraging Ryan had sounded, she knew she still needed to work on her analogies). Obviously she was better at that in her head, since whenever she tried to skip real stones, they sank immediately.

Her thoughts? Music, chords. What her family is up to right now; she does miss them, a little, but not enough to go home — if they will even let her back in the house.

At one point she was cataloguing the overnight swaps — William and Bob to replace Ryan and Spencer; Alex and Ryland, which had made Gabe, Nate and Victoria ecstatic. The Alexes all stayed, for a variety of reasons. Johnson said that they wanted to stay on the ship where they got to wave their swords around. Deleon insisted that they couldn't just abandon Brendon after adopting her, and Ian confided that Cash was hoping to wheedle a cabin out of William.

The first reason is understandable, the second sweet, and the third doubtful, but whatever the excuse, Brendon's glad they stayed. She's already lost Spencer and Ryan, she doesn't want to lose her other best friends.

Cash stops beatboxing mid-spit when the pigeon arrives. It flies directly to William, who reads the attached message, holds a brief conference with Bob, and writes a reply. The pigeon wings off again, at one point swooping so close to Brendon that she can almost stroke its blue-grey feathers. It's a beautiful bird, lovely plumage.

"Hey, everyone!" Gabe shouts, his voice carrying through the entire ship. "After the raid this weekend, party on Clan Island!"

Cash screams, "Woooo!" in Brendon's ear, but she's willing to be generous and forgive him. After all, she's cheering too.

Pete owns a bunch of islands that he uses specifically to accommodate the pirates — after all, it can be hard to dock for a few weeks of R&R when you're the most well-known pirate ship still sailing — but Clan Island is the biggest, and it's only about a day's sail away from the port they're raiding at the end of this week.

Brendon is excited. Clan Island parties are legendary among the crew. Gabe has already implied that they're planning something to make it extra-special when Brendon loses her Clan Island virginity. "When we pop your party cherry," Cash had helpfully put it.

Now, Cash leers at Brendon and says, "You know what Clan Island has? Houses. Houses with beds. Really _big_ beds."

"Please," Brendon snorts. "Even five of you couldn't handle one of me."

"I'll take that challenge!" Cash immediately promises, and Brendon slaps her own forehead. She totally walked right into that one.

"Sorry, Cash Money. Not this time. Or, you know, next time. Or the time after that."

"Why not?" he demands, looking her in the eyes. Brendon almost gapes. Cash has always just rolled with the jokes and kept on teasing. Now he sounds... serious. "Brendon, come on. You know I'm not bluffing. So why not?"

It's not that Brendon didn't think he was bluffing. She thought he was bluffing. She just wasn't willing to call him on it. Still, it's not like she doesn't have validations. "You're too young," she shoots back almost immediately.

"I'm a year and a half younger than you. Gabe is six years older than William, Jon is a couple years older than Ryan and Spencer. Doesn't matter. Boom, try again."

"You're already in a _fivesome_ ," she retorts.

"So? The more the merrier, and you know they'd be up for it too. Two points for me, none for you. Next? And crushing on Spencer and Ryan doesn't count."

"I'm not crushing on them," Brendon protests. It's not convincing in the slightest.

Cash just grins. "So that can't be a reason, then. Next?"

Brendon would spill her femininity, but at this point she doubts it would deter him. "I'm in love," she confesses finally, looking down at the deck miserably. "I'm always going to be in love with him."

Jon motherfucking Walker, the reason why she ran away from home. Sure, an arranged marriage would just suck, period, but it would be even worse when her heart would always belong to someone else. (She had thought that it would only belong to Jon. Spencer and Ryan are... puzzling.)

Cash's eyebrows furrow. "Who is this guy?" he inquires. "And why isn't he with you?"

Brendon doesn't think she can say the name. "He worked for my parents," she says, sighing. He was their stable boy, actually. Brendon has a lot of fond memories of that stable, even if she did always get hay in her hair when they were making it out. Jon always carefully lifted all of it out, though, and then he used it to chase her around the stable loft and tickle her mercilessly — which always led to more making out, at least until her parents called for her. "But almost four years ago, his parents moved away and he had to go with them."

The day he told her about the impending move is still one of the most memorable days of her life, first for the immediate surge of pain, like a blunt sword stabbing through her stomach. She hadn't had enough time with Jon — three years of knowing him, and they'd only been really together for one. Three years was nothing when she'd wanted forever.

Jon looked at her worriedly, saying, "It's not like I want to, Bren — you have to know it's not —"

"I know," Brendon assured him, because Jon had been thinking in forevers too. They'd talked about the future in pleasantly dreamy tones, lying in the hayloft with Brendon's head pillowed on Jon's chest. They'd discussed how to get her parents to accept their eventual marriage, and where to go if that didn't happen. They'd just never planned for so soon. Two goddamn weeks, she reflected. "Well, I guess that means we don't have any more time to waste."

That was when she jumped him.

"Brendon!" he protested, holding her shoulders and laughing slightly. "What —"

"Jon, you're leaving in two weeks," she explained, rolling her eyes at how dense he was. "We might not see each other again —"

"Brendon, I'm coming back to you —"

Brendon felt the sword through her stomach retract slightly. "But we still might not see each other again for years," she continued stubbornly. "Life happens. And I'm going to wait for you for years anyway, but I'd really like to wait for years knowing what having you inside me feels like." Before he can even say anything, she adds, "And I guess in the romance novels my sisters hide, we would be waiting until your last night, but this way we can get good at it first."

Jon just looked at her, his grip on her shoulders loosening and his hands sliding down to her waist. "Well, when you put it that way..."

"Brendon. Brendon!"

Brendon snaps to attention, looking at Cash and clearing her throat. "Um. Anyway, that's... what happened." She can feel herself flushing all the way down to her chest.

Cash eyes her with a mix of fascination and amusement. "Right," he drawls. "You're just lucky I'm not going to ask you to act out what was going through your head right now. I'm not even going to ask you for details." Suspicious, Brendon waits, and isn't surprised when he follows that up with a murmured, "Yet, anyway."

"I appreciate it?" she half-asks, strumming the guitar absently as she waits for his final verdict. Whatever it is, it's bound to at least be interesting; you can never predict what's going to come out of Cash's mouth.

"Right. Brendon, you know that's just stupid, right?" He looks at her patiently, like he's just waiting for her to admit the error of her ways. Brendon might, if she knew what the hell he was talking about.

"What?" she demands. Is it stupid to be in love with Jon? She's never thought so before, and she's pretty certain that she isn't going to start now.

"It's been _four years_. You can't just spend all your time waiting for him to come back to you. You haven't even been looking for him!"

Brendon shifts, uncomfortable in ways that have nothing to do with the way she's sitting. "Well." He might actually have a point there. "I..."

So, here's the thing. She might have been a little scared to go looking for Jon. Actually, she might have been a little terrified. It's not that she doesn't want to see him again, far from it. She just...

"I didn't want to find out that he was married," she mutters unhappily, hating to admit it. She doesn't want to think that her love lasted and Jon's love faded, but it's one of the vast possibilities out there, and one of the more painful. Brendon knows she's not exactly beautiful, okay. She's generally been described as 'quirky', the sort of girl who can actually pass for a pretty boy, nothing like Greta or Victoria or her sisters. "Or dead."

"But Brendon, don't you think you need that sort of closure?" Cash presses. It's incredibly sweet, even when Brendon considers that part of his motivation is wanting to get into her pants. (She can't blame him for that today. Her pants are stripy.) "You should be able to know. You shouldn't have to just sit around hoping you'll run into each other."

"I didn't just sit around," Brendon protests. Okay, she did for four years, but that's slightly different. Jon said he'd come back for her; she wanted to stay where he knew he could find her. She only left when she had to. It was just so easy to stay put — and god, as much as she hates to admit it, maybe Cash has a point. "I joined a pirate ship."

"Yeah," he points out ruthlessly. "A really well-connected pirate ship, and you haven't even told any of us about him so we could help you find him. Brendon, either you need to start looking for this guy, or you need to get over him and sleep with me."

She snorts. "You know, you were doing really well, and then you just had to add that last part in, didn't you?"

He doesn't even have the grace to look sheepish. "You know I'm right," he tells her smugly. "And I bet you've at least thought about it, haven't you?"

"I'm not even going to respond to that," she retorts, looking away and trying not to make it really, really obvious that she actually has thought about it.

Apparently, she doesn't do such a great job with that, since he immediately crows, "You have!" and sets about poking her in the side.

Brendon squirms away, slapping at his hands. "Shut up!" she laughs. "Fine, you win. After the raid, I'll start asking about him." She doesn't think anyone needs the distraction this week, and she has things to learn, anyway. Plus, she kind of thinks she might need the week to work up her courage. She hasn't even been able to say his name, for crying out loud. "And then if I don't find him... I'll _consider_ considering your offer."

"You've totally already considered it," he brags, smirking. It changes to a wince when she hits him. "Ow! Okay, okay. Damn, you drive a hard bargain."

"God, you're obnoxious," she informs him, unable to hold back a smile. That's Cash for you — loud, obnoxious, filthy-minded, and weirdly endearing. "Go back to beatboxing."

"I'll box your beat," he tells her, leering, and scrambles away before she can hit him again. "I'm done, I promise!"

 

_The Hush Sound Is..., docked in the port of Reading-on-Leeds_

Jon watches Spencer and Ryan walk down the gangplank and into town, headed for their second meeting of the week. Being semi-respectable merchants requires more work than waving a sword around and spreading wild tales, not to mention more subtlety, but Spencer's pretty good at bossing their contacts into doing whatever he wants, and Ryan is curiously persuasive. The mostly-good name of The Hush Sound Is... remains upheld, even if Jon knows that Ryan is mourning the temporary loss of his hats. Merchant captains don't get to wear fabulous hats, after all.

Ryan was feeling nostalgic this morning, if you can feel nostalgic for something that only happened a few days ago. "My last day on The Black Parade," he said wistfully, his chin resting on his hand. "It was a marvel of millinery. I was wearing the maroon velvet hat with paisley ribbons. I bet William is enjoying the glory of it now."

Jon couldn't remember the maroon hat — Ryan tends to describe the colors of his hats with words like aubergine, chartreuse, cerise, and sienna, whereas Jon invariably calls them purple, green, pink and brown — but it didn't precisely sound as glorious as Ryan made it out to be. He glanced over at Spencer, who whispered, "The ribbons matched at least two of Ryan's scarves. It was the ugliest thing I've ever seen, but Ryan and Brendon seemed pretty excited when they picked it out."

Jon still gets a thrill at the name Brendon, even though he knows he's going to have to start getting used to it. Spencer and Ryan seem pretty determined to keep the new cabin boy, and Jon doubts Brendon would react well if Jon suggested he change his name.

It's got him moping a little bit right now, knowing that the Brendon who's so close isn't his Brendon, but it's nothing that he won't get over in a half an hour or so. He's got Ryan and Spencer, after all, and they're enough to keep anyone happy. Maybe it is being greedy to want Brendon, too.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mike join him at the railing. "Hey, Mike," he greets, giving a sideways nod without taking his eyes away from the spot where Spencer and Ryan disappeared around a corner. The boat is bobbing slightly on the water, but his gaze is steady. "How's it going?"

"Pretty well," Mike says. Jon grins to himself. Mike's been much more cheerful ever since they got to drop by Disney Island. The whole crew had fun there, since Disney is practically a playground — if you live there, you're either filthy rich, working for the filthy rich, or trying to steal something from the filthy rich — but nobody had any delusions about their reasons for being there. They didn't detour off-course just to hang out on one of the largest and wealthiest islands in the South Sea; they were there so Mike could visit Kevin. It must have been a few weeks since they'd seen each other before that, maybe even two months or so. Jon is amazed by the two of them.

Abruptly turning away from the view of Reading-on-Leeds, he wonders aloud, "How do you do it?" Kevin and Mike are apart more often than they're together, and most of the time Mike is sailing into potentially dangerous situations. "You and Kevin?"

Mike looks vaguely homicidal, which is a pretty common look for him and rarely means that he actually wants to kill someone. In this case, Jon suspects that Mike's just vaguely uncomfortable about talking about a relationship that's about ten times mushier than you would ever expect anything involving Mike Carden to be. William has been known to describe Mike Carden as a sea urchin — spiny on the outside, but squishy, brightly-colored, and weirdly flavored on the inside.

"Do what?" he asks tersely, glancing at Jon.

"Spend so much time away from each other," Jon elaborates, not entirely sure what he's talking about or why he's asking. Or maybe he has an inkling — a slight one. It's just... sometimes he worries that if he and Brendon were to meet again today, they wouldn't even like each other anymore. People change in four years, don't they? How much have he and Brendon changed? "Do you ever worry that you'll grow apart?"

Mike frowns thoughtfully. "Yeah," he states bluntly. "But we haven't yet."

"And it's all just... okay?" Jon presses, not entirely sure what he's trying to say but certain that he has to say it. He got the "true love" pep talk from William already, but this — this seems important, too.

"He doesn't have to stay the same," Mike says, shrugging. "I don't expect him to. But I usually like the changes." He doesn't have to mention Kevin's ill-advised attempt to grow a mustache. None of them had liked that change. Kevin's own family had thanked them for convincing him to shave it off.

"And there's never been a point where you wonder if it's all worth it?" Jon is beginning to sound a little bit desperate, he knows, which is why he's pretty sure Mike will forgive him for unintentionally implying that Mike not always be fully committed to his relationship with Kevin. Everyone knows that Mike is completely committed. Mike keeps a fucking ring in his bag, and they're all pretty sure that the only reason he hasn't proposed yet is because none of his recent trips to see Kevin have been long enough for all the engagement-celebration sex that would inevitably ensue.

To Jon's surprise, Mike admits, "Yeah." Jon would gasp, but he's the chill one, so instead he just widens his eyes. After a moment, Mike continues, "But then after three seconds I realize I'm being a moron."

He sounds so casual about it all. Jon just doesn't — God. He never used to imagine that his romantic life would be so complicated.

"Dude, it's going to be okay," Mike tells him, sounding just as awkward as assuring. Jon doesn't mind. "You'll find her."

"You think it's stupid," Jon reminds him, looking over skeptically.

"Well, yeah," Mike snorts, and Jon remembers suddenly that Mike doesn't bullshit people. He'll refuse to talk about something, sure, but the only person he's ever flat-out lied to as long as Jon's known him was Kevin, and there were extenuating circumstances there. Mostly they involved Mike being a well-meaning moron. "But I thought it was stupid to save Kevin all those times, and I did it anyway. That's the way love is." He coughs. "And stuff."

Jon was actually there the day Mike saved Kevin for the first time, when Kevin got completely lost while taking a walk and ended up at the docks, the only parts of Disney Island that haven't been cleaned up completely. Luckily for Kevin, The Hush Sound Is... had moored right by the alley where the thugs who thought the eldest son of one of Disney's main families would make a great target. They might have been right, but Mike had seen them and scared them off before they could do anything.

Somehow, Kevin had ended up hanging with them for almost the entire day before the crew returned him to his frantic parents. When Jon and the others had walked away, Mrs. Jonas had been swearing that she would have handlers watching him day and night. Personally, Jon thought it would have been a better idea to try and instill Kevin with a sense of direction.

And then Kevin had just come back to the docks again, and again, and Mike kept on saving him like a freaking damsel in distress until one day Mike just sighed, "Obviously I'm just going to have to keep doing this if I don't just give in, so. I will pick you up at your house tomorrow at noon." Everybody knew better, of course, because Mike had flipped the fuck out when Kevin got attacked, but the entire crew had unanimously agreed that discretion might be the better part of valor in this case.

Jon doesn't think saving Kevin was the stupid part. Jon thinks the stupid part was lying to Kevin so that Kevin would stop caring about him, or whatever, because Mike didn't want Kevin to have to deal with the strain of being in love with a pirate-smuggler and disappointing his family. (His dad didn't really want to admit that Kevin liked guys. He kept on trying to set Kevin up with some of their female neighbors; after all, Disney never lacks rich young women. Somehow they just seem to sprout there, like mold.)

Luckily, after William, Jon, and Greta had discussed the situation, with plenty of comments from the peanut gallery, they'd managed to straighten everything out so that Mike and Kevin were sappily in love once more. It was more adorable than kittens, and that's saying a lot, because kittens are ridiculously adorable. (Brendon is — was? — still is, probably, more adorable than kittens. Jon's just saying, okay. Brendon plus kittens inevitably equaled an overload of happiness in Jon's heart. Brendon plus kittens plus coffee was like all the best things on earth, and Brendon plus Spencer plus Ryan plus kittens plus coffee — actually, Jon's not sure he can physically comprehend how amazing that would be.)

The point is, Mike's probably right about everybody doing stupid things for love.

"Thanks, man," Jon says, clapping Mike on the shoulder, and Mike grunts in return. Jon's not entirely sure what he's managed to figure out here, but he'll probably understand it eventually.

 

_The Black Parade, anchored some distance away from the port of Reading-on-Leeds_

"Hey, gorgeous," Greta says, slapping Brendon's ass cheerfully. Everybody's keyed up today, full of anticipation for the raid tonight. Deleon's practically vibrating; every so often, someone has to check to make sure he hasn't buzzed to close to the edge of the ship. "You ready?"

"Are you kidding?" Brendon laughs, bouncing on her toes and gripping the hilt of her sword. "I've been ready since Frank let me play with the sharp swords."

"Wait, Frank taught you to swordwave? Man!" Greta complains, making a face. "I can't believe I missed that!"

"There were a lot of prolonged death scenes," Johnson tells her, silently appearing behind them in that sneaky way of his. Brendon thinks he's been taking sneaking lessons from Bob — Bob Morris, although everyone assures Brendon that Bob Bryar is the original ninja. Brendon looks forward to meeting him one day and trying to learn his skills.

Actually, she's got a list of people whose skills she wants to learn. She just can't decide whether or not ninja-ing with Bob tops feminine wiles with Greta and Victoria. Of course, the latter will probably have to wait until she actually tells everyone she's a girl, which will probably have to happen soon if she doesn't want everyone to get annoyed at her for lying, or something. Maybe that's another thing she can put off until next week.

"Alright, everyone!" William says, clapping his hands. "Aside from poor Alex here, who has to stay with the ship and try not to set it on fire, I believe it's time for all of us to set out!"

Everyone cheers except Alex Marshall, who looks like he's sulking a little. Still, they all know the rules; anyone who got to wave a sword around during the previous raid is immediately fair game for having to stay on the ship the next time. Well, except Gabe, Ryan, or Cash, but Brendon's pretty sure that nobody involved in the decision-making process really wants to see what would happen if they left either of those two alone with the ship.

As a whole, the crew surges forward and hoist the rowboat over the edge of the ship, carefully lowering it down to sea level. Brendon gets an accidental elbow shoved in her gut, but she's pretty sure she's helping. Somehow. She's got a hand on the rope, anyway.

Gabe climbs down first, followed by Greta and Victoria. Brendon is next, and she makes sure to keep her hands tight on the rope as the sea spray messes up her hair. Whatever, her hair is short, it's not like it matters. William's after her, dropping from the rope almost directly onto Gabe's lap, followed by all the Alexes except Marshall. Deleon looks hopefully at William's lap, but William just raises an eyebrow and shoos him away.

The trip out is just as chaotic as it was the last time, everybody reaching over each other and into each others' space. Brendon doesn't mind, though, because this time she's got her trusty sword in a sheath at her side. She's going out pirating! This might be one of the most exciting days of her life. She doesn't know how anyone could not comprehend how awesome this is.

And oh, it is awesome. They storm into Reading-on-Leeds like nobody's business. Or. Well, maybe that's not exactly the phrase, since they're making it everybody's business by causing a scene and loudly challenging the nearby guards. All the townspeople still awake have started gathering, staring at the pirates — yeah, the pirates. Like Brendon, yeah, that's right, she's a pirate and it rocks — with mingled expressions of fear and awe. And excitement. Brendon can't blame them. She would have been totally psyched if pirates had invaded Vegas — not that her parents would have let her out of the house if there was any hint of pirates, but. She would've been psyched anyway.

Except then a messenger runs up, panting, and says, "Sir, the smuggling sting needs backup!"

Brendon exchanges worried glances with the rest of the crew. What smuggling sting? Did the guards find out about The Hush Sound Is...'s carefully guarded secret? _How_?

The leader of the guards seems to hesitate for a moment, but another guard leans over and hisses, "You'll never be able to defeat The Black Parade, but these guys we can hang."

Actually, it's not really a hiss, since Brendon can hear every word he says. This guy is about as subtle as Cash, and — wait, _what_? Brendon's thoughts immediately jump to Spencer and Ryan, fighting desperately against guards who won't make sure to carefully stay about an arm's length away. Spencer and Ryan, who don't know that an entire new squadron is about to come up behind them. The whole point is that nobody's wary of The Hush Sound Is..., but Brendon's never thought that that might make it easier for them to get captured.

They — no. Just no. Brendon can't let Spencer and Ryan hang. And what about Sisky, or Bob and his ninja skills, or Chiz and his accent? And how will they face Kevin on Disney Island if they lose Mike? And Chris, and Darren, and Butcher — and Jon, whom she hasn't even met yet? No. No, no, no, they can't just stay here, even if joining The Hush Sound Is... would blow their cover.

Fortunately, Gabe's got it under control. "Oho!" he booms, using the loud voice that's startled them all out of bed at least once. "So you guards would just leave these innocent townspeople here without your protection, at the mercy of The Black Parade?" Some of the townspeople shift uneasily at that, frowning at the guards. "They're lucky we like a challenge more than you seem to. After all, it's practically our duty to support fellow law-breakers."

Gabe is practically strutting now, this oversize character that Brendon's seen occasionally on the ship. God, she loves Gabe, he's such a down-to-earth, sincere person underneath it all, and then he can just switch to... _this_. This tall entertainer who loves nothing more than bright colors, sly expressions, and putting on a show.

And she especially loves him because he's leading them all at a dead run to The Hush Sound Is... Brendon's not sure she can sheathe her sword while running, so she just makes sure not to stab anybody with it. A few townspeople are running along with them, she notices; she frowns at them, puzzled, but they don't try to trip up the pirates, so eventually she just shrugs and concentrates on running again.

They pound into the square where guards have The Hush Sound Is... cornered, and William takes up where Gabe left off. "Fellow outlaws!" he shouts grandiosely. "The Black Parade has come to support you!"

Just in time, too, because some new guardsfolk are arriving through alleyways with batons and swords drawn. They all take a step back at William's words, some of them large and some of them hardly noticeable.

"Well, if you think we need it," Spencer says, sounding a little too casual for someone currently trying to glare an armed guard into submission. Ryan is busy flailing at another. Brendon sighs inwardly in relief.

"Arr!" Cash screams, lunging at a nearby guard who was sneakily attempting to bring his sword down on Ian's head. Hit by a thrashing tornado of Cash — Cash-nado? Cash-icane? Cash-nami? Cash-quake? Brendon makes a note to discuss these with Cash at a better time — the man falls backwards and the sword goes awry, only cutting off a small lock of Ian's hair. That's enough to make Ian snap, though, and he wades into the fray, scaring several guards who are clearly scared of the fact that he's both part of the crew of The Black Parade and spitting mad.

In short order, Brendon finds herself forcing back several guards just by gesturing at them with her sword. Some of the other pirates have it her way, and others are having to actually fight. Like one man she can't identify — it could be Darren or Chris, but smugglers do all their work in the dark; the only consistent way to actually tell who's a guard and who isn't is by clothing — who's sparring pretty seriously with a burly guard.

All his attention is focused on that one guard, but Brendon can see another guard sneaking up behind him, and oh, that's just not on. "Avast!" she shouts, raising her sword as she runs over. She slashes at the guard's arm, trying to get him to drop his sword. He doesn't, but that's okay; he's forced his way close enough to her that she can step on his foot (doesn't work too well, since he's wearing boots), knee him in the groin (much better), and elbow him in the stomach (which is just the icing on the cake), all in a few seconds. Those lessons with Jon really stuck. The guard folds over, groaning.

"Thanks!" the pirate she was trying to save shouts. She can barely hear him over the clash of swords and the grunts of exertion and pain all around her. The guy she took down is moaning loud enough for at least three back-alley whores. Not that Brendon knows anything about the volume levels of back-alley whores, or for that matter anything at all about back-alley whores, but it sounds like a properly piratical analogy.

A flailing fist hits her temple, and she stumbles. The only thing that keeps her from falling, and probably getting crushed by the brawl, is her fellow pirate steadying her.

"You too!" she shouts back gratefully. "On your right!" In a second, they're effectively fighting back to back, guards retreating around them.

In fact, there're a lot of retreating guards, and a lot of guards limping or falling to their knees. Brendon has to wonder how well these guards are trained, because the pirates with little to no fighting experience are _winning_. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees something flash past her and brain a guard in the skull. Okay, so the townsfolk are throwing rocks, probably in retaliation for the guards not protecting them. That could help.

"Hush take-off!" someone cries, and all of a sudden Brendon's fighting partner is gone, running off with the rest of The Hush Sound... crew. That's fine, there're few enough guards left able to fight that The Black Parade and the townsfolk can take care of them easily.

Anyway, only five or so minutes pass after that before The Black Parade crew members run off triumphantly in a slightly different direction, and Brendon is swallowed up in the press of people just like she was that first time. This time, though, she's part of them, crowing victoriously as she sprints back to the rowboat, and then helping row home to The Black Parade.

 

_The Hush Sound Is..., merchant ship with a perhaps slightly worse reputation than earlier in the evening_

"What the hell happened?" Spencer demands, pacing the deck angrily. He's practically storming. "How did they find out?"

"It was Mr. Bottler," Bob sighs, rubbing his temples. Jon watches quietly as Ryan groans, sinking down onto a bench. "He must have changed his mind, told the guards."

"Fuck," Spencer curses, and Jon moves to rub his shoulders without even thinking about it.

"We're okay," he reminds Spencer, hoping it'll help calm him down. They're far away from Reading-on-Leeds, they're all alive and okay, and they're heading towards Clan Island for what will hopefully be a legendary party. "We're out of it now, and you know Pete has things in place for situations like this. He's probably dealing with it right now. It's not like the entire Armada is after us."

"Well, it's not like we really have to worry about the Armada," Sisky points out, shrugging. "Since Admiral Jay-Z and General Knowles are so tight with Patrick and all." It's a good point, and how Patrick managed to become friends with the most respected commanders in the fleet Jon will never know, but it does make life a hell of a lot easier. They just have to worry about the landbound guards, now.

"Okay," Spencer says, letting out a heavy breath. "Okay, I won't worry about it until after the party, is that what you want?"

"Well, it would help me celebrate," Butcher accedes offhandedly, and Spencer almost laughs. Jon can feel his shoulders move under Jon's hands.

"I know I should be celebrating," Jon agrees. "One of The Black Parade saved my ass. It might have been one of the Alexes?" He's not entirely positive about that one, actually, since the Alexes give off a vibe, but he can't think of who else it might have been.

"No, the Alexes were right by me the whole time," Chris says, frowning.

"Well, he was too little to be anyone else, except maybe Victoria."

Ryan looks up, grinning. "It might have been Brendon!" he exclaims, sounding way too excited. Jon is immediately wary. "You should totally reward him for that. Ooh, I know. You should have sex with him."

"No," Mike says loudly, looking like he wants to kill someone, which in this case means he's only a few comments away from sticking his fingers in his ears and going 'LALALALALALA.' "No talking about your guys' sex life. I really don't want to know."

"I do," Sisky says, looking far too interested for someone who isn't Cash or Gabe.

"Actually, I'm with Mike on this one," Jon says quickly, sending a sudden wave of gratitude towards Carden. "But I'm sure I could say thank you with an actual thank you, since he saved my life and all." Technically, he already thanked Brendon, but he'd like to do it again when he can actually see the guy who's made his ears perk up and his heart sink for at least a week.

"Sure," Spencer agrees quickly, and Jon wonders suspiciously if Spencer has been having some of the same thoughts as Ryan. Scratch that, Jon doesn't wonder if Spencer's had the same thoughts. He just wonders how many. "I mean, it's a good idea. We'll swing over to The Black Parade once we draw up to Clan Island and just all check in for a minute before going on-shore." It's just repetition of standard procedure, but it helps Spencer's voice go from hasty to bossy, so Jon isn't complaining.

"Sounds good," Jon says easily, and the deck is left in silence.

Then — because _someone_ has to — Sisky pipes up, "So, are we there yet?" and the entire crew dissolves into a cacaphony of laughter, chatter and unwilling-to-admit-they're-amused groans.

 

_The Black Parade, docked on Clan Island_

William's been waiting for this for weeks.

Patiently, he watches various figures on The Hush Sound Is... as they take out the swinging ropes and set them up. Nobody wants to admit this, but swinging over to The Black Parade right before every island meet-up is and has always been completely unnecessary. It's not like the shore isn't just a few feet away; they could very easily say hello on solid ground. Swinging over is more fun, though.

They choose to deploy five ropes this time; first up are Bob, Spencer, Chris, Mike, and — oh, no, that won't do. "I need Sisky first!" William calls over, frowning to show that he means it.

Spencer rolls his eyes, but Jon just laughs and relinquishes his rope to Sisky. Much better. If this is going to happen, which it is, it's going to happen _right_. Rightly? Oh, adverbs. Perfectly is a much better word, in any case. William will be damned if this doesn't go perfectly.

Comprising the second wave, as well they should, are Ryan, Darren, Butcher, Chislett, and Jon. Excellent. William keeps his eyes on the main stage and waits for the magic to happen; he doesn't think he'll be waiting long.

Even better, Spencer says almost immediately, "Well, Jon, now you can meet the guy who saved your ass. Brendon, Jon. Jon, Brendon."

Jon and Brendon, however, seem to have tuned Spencer out, because they're just staring at each other like everyone else on board has disappeared. "Oh my god," Brendon says, her voice practically indistinct. She'd been lounging when the crew swung over, resting against the wall of the captain's quarters as she followed Spencer and Ryan with her eyes, but now she's leaning forward as if Jon has some sort of magnetic pull.

"Oh my god," Jon repeats, standing stock still. His eyes are wider than William's ever seen them, and William was there when Jon stumbled on the Alexes having sex in the hold, so William knows his criteria.

Ryan's eyes flick between the two of them warily. "Um," he says, nudging Spencer. By now, everyone on the crew has turned to watch Brendon and Jon. "Is this a good thing?"

At that moment, as if the sound of Ryan's voice was the catalyst, Brendon and Jon make up the distance between them with almost uncanny speed. One second they're yards apart, the next they're wrapped around each other even more tightly than Gabe and William when they've just reunited. Brendon is a clingy little thing; William is pretty impressed.

As Brendon and Jon kiss desperately, the entire crew explodes into murmurs, catcalls and questions. Well, except William, of course. He just watches smugly.

"Ian!" Cash hisses from William's right. William's eyes are focused on the magnificent couple in the middle of the deck, but he imagines that Cash is tugging demandingly at Ian's sleeve, or possibly his hair. "Why is Brendon making out with Jon and not me?"

"I'd say for you to ask him," Ian says dryly, sounding a little flabbergasted, "but I think he's a little busy right now."

Busy might be understating it, William thinks. Brendon and Jon don't seem to see or hear the rest of the crew; it's like they've gone blind and deaf, and are concentrating three times as hard on touch and taste to make up for it. Granted, that's only to be expected, considering that they've spent four years pining for each other.

Ryan and Spencer seem to be thinking the same thing as Cash, although of course both of them translate it slightly differently. Spencer is frowning — actually, Spencer is looking a little growly, probably because he doesn't know what's going on and the only people he wants to explain it are currently wrapped up in each other. Ryan has more of a mix of hope, anxiety and confusion.

"I thought Jon only thanked us like that," he mutters, his eyebrows still furrowed.

The rest of the crew is, for the most part, simply amused and curious — the perfect audience. This is better than William could have anticipated. After all, you can't plan this sort of thing; all you can do is adjust minute details and hope that it works out dramatically.

Actually, in this case it might work out as a sex show if someone doesn't — ah, good, Spencer's separating them. "So," he begins, sounding way too patient for him to actually _be_ feeling patient right now. "I don't know about everybody else, but I wouldn't mind an explanation right about now."

Brendon and Jon are clearly unhappy about being separated, but they both nod after a moment. "Um, out here?" Brendon asks hesitantly, looking around as if she's only now noticing the gawking crew. As a matter of fact, that's probably accurate.

"Oh, don't worry, I can catch everyone up if you want to talk privately," William offers helpfully.

Everybody's eyes flick to him. "How much do you _know_?" Jon demands disbelievingly.

"Most of it, I think," William says, considering. "Really, it wasn't that difficult to put together, once I realized that Brendon's really a girl."

He'd had his suspicions before, of course — Jon's Brendon disappeared and then all of a sudden, they had a new cabin boy named Brendon? It was possible that they were two different people, but he doubted it. Add in that a young noblewoman had just vanished that week and William's sources mentioned that a duke — widowed, with two adolescent sons — was on his way to visit the Count and Countess Urie, and everything began to add up. Discovering Brendon's femininity just confirmed it. Even before Cash blabbed about Brendon pining for her first love, William knew what was up.

Maybe he should have told them, but he knew they would both meet up eventually. He simply chose to keep a few of his conclusions to himself, which was entirely his prerogative. If anyone asks, his reason is that he didn't know for sure if he was right, and he didn't want to give either of them false hope.

The real reason, though, is that it's just more all-around satisfying this way. He doesn't think anyone is going to argue with that.

"Wait, Brendon's a girl?" Victoria asks. It's one of the few times William's seen her actually look surprised. "I mean, I know we joke about it, but..."

"Um." Brendon fidgets, rubbing the back of her neck. "Hi?"

"Right, that's it," Spencer commands imperiously, his hands on his hips. He points at Ryan, Brendon and Jon. "You three, captain's quarters, _now_. William, if you honestly know what the hell is going on, feel free to explain."

Ryan, Brendon and Jon have already hurried into the cabin. You don't disobey Spencer when he's using his Head Bitch In Charge voice. Spencer follows them, closing the door tightly behind him.

William looks at the waiting crew and smiles contentedly. Gabe looks so proud of him. "Well, it all began seven years ago, when Jon was hired to work as the stable boy for Count Urie and his family..."


	4. Act Four

**ACT FOUR**

_The Black Parade, home_

Brendon chews her lip as Spencer hipchecks the door closed. She can't read his face right now, but he doesn't exactly seem happy. Which could, you know, have something to do with the fact that she lied to him and then made out very publicly with one of his boyfriends.

One of his boyfriends. God. She can't help but glance over at Jon every five seconds, reaffirming that he really is here, really is her Jon. She wants to hold his hand, just for the sake of touching him, but she's not sure Spencer and Ryan would be too happy about that.

"So. You're a girl," Ryan says in a monotone. Granted, he generally speaks in a monotone, but Brendon's convinced that his voice has even less expression now than it does normally.

"Right. Um," Brendon says, which is a really auspicious beginning. She feels kind of like a moron. "Okay, so my last name isn't Boyd, it's, um. Urie."

"Urie," Spencer repeats slowly. He makes a face like he's choking on something, which Brendon suspects means he just figured out why her last name seemed familiar. " _Urie?_ You're a _countess_?"

"Countess-to-be," Jon murmurs, and she can't help it, she has to smile at him.

"Kind of," she corrects, just like she always used to. After all, any noble daughter, unless she's the heir (which Brendon, with four older siblings, definitely isn't), will automatically take the title of her husband, not her parents. Jon never liked the idea of her marrying some nobleman and he felt bad that by marrying him she would have to give up her whole life, so he just bypassed the whole problem by referring to her as a countess-to-be. Brendon always kind of liked it. "And not anymore, anyway, since I ran away, which is basically the same thing as giving up your rank, right?"

And anyway, if her family hasn't disowned her already, it's probably just because she hasn't been there to disown. She doesn't think she even wants to know how badly she pissed off the aristocracy by running away. Well, at least she never has to worry about having to go to another boring dinner party again in her life.

"Effectively," Ryan concurs thoughtfully. He wanders over to the shelf and pulls out three books, trying to flip through each of them at the same time. Brendon automatically sidles over and takes two of the books; it's instinct after so many weeks as a cabin boy. Once he's done finding what he wants in the book he has, she'll take that, hold his page and pass him another. "At least, from what I've read —"

"Ryan," Spencer says firmly. Scratch that plan, then. Brendon takes Ryan's book and carefully places all three on the desk. Spencer adds dryly, "It's not like either of us would know from personal experience."

Brendon frowns, a little petulantly. "Well, neither would I. It's not like I've ever run away before. And nobody in my family has ever done anything interesting before either."

Spencer sighs, rubbing his temples. Brendon fights the urge to ask him if he wants her to bring him tea from the galley. "That's really not the point right now. I need you all to stay focused right now." Right, okay. Brendon can totally do that.

...As soon as she stops thinking about how her Jon being Ryan and Spencer's Jon means that he, Ryan, and Spencer have totally had sex. Multiple times. Maybe even multiple times in one night, and wow, it's really hard to stay focused with an image like that in her head.

No! Bad. Distractions like that are bad, and distracting, and sexy, and oh god she's going to melt into a puddle before she leaves this room.

"So," Spencer says, and she snaps her attention to him. "Jon, I'm assuming this is your Brendon? The one you went to try to kidnap so you could bring her back to the ship?"

"Wait, that was your errand?" Brendon demands, turning to look at Jon. Ryan sighs, leaning against the desk. Brendon wishes he were leaning against the desk closer to her. "You were going to kidnap me?" She's puzzled. Jon has to know that he would never need to kidnap her, right? Unless she was brainwashed, she would always go willingly.

"Not kidnap, exactly," Jon explains, shifting on his feet and looking slightly uncomfortable. "I just needed to find you."

"And it took you four years to want to do that?" Brendon asks slowly, trying to figure this out. Jon obviously still wants her, which is good, and he hasn't been swallowed by a giant squid or married to some blonde chick, which is better. Then again, he's also been on a pirate ship for about two years now, and probably could've come to Summerside at any time during said two years, which is... curious.

"No!" Jon insists, which, hey. Fervency is always good, right? "But first we were adding a second ship and a whole new crew, and then Spencer, Ryan, and I got involved and I didn't want to hurt you or them —"

"But now it's okay?" Ryan asks, making a face. This could potentially all go downhill very quickly. Brendon's a little sorry she asked, except for how she really isn't. She needs to know.

Jon closes his eyes for a second. "Now," he tells them quietly, "I thought that you and Spencer would know for sure how much I love you and will always love you. And I just couldn't wait any more to find Brendon." He laughs, a little disbelievingly. "If you had just waited a week to run away..."

Brendon snorts. "I waited four years! You sent me one letter, Jon. One, a year after you left, and then nothing. And what, I was just going to sit around doing nothing when my parents had practically signed my marriage contract? Yeah, right."

"Marriage contract?" Spencer, Ryan, and Jon all say in unison, turning to stare at her. They look bewildered. Brendon coughs.

"Um, I didn't mention that my parents had arranged a marriage for me?" she asks, smiling uncertainly and rubbing the back of her neck. Whoops.

"With whom?" Ryan wonders, sounding fascinated and mildly horrified. Brendon likes to imagine that he's horrified at the idea of anybody else marrying her except the three of them, but she's pretty sure that's just wishful thinking.

She's just about to explain how she actually has no idea who her future-fiancé was, when Spencer snaps, "Focus! We can discuss details and marriages later." Mmm, bossy Spencer. Yeah, Brendon definitely isn't going to make it out of here without melting into a puddle of goo. "Okay, so. Jon, you and Brendon were together, and then you left to go back to Chicago, correct?" Jon nods. "Where you reconnected with William, which led you to join The Black Parade, where you became involved with Ryan and me."

Ryan looks smug. "It was totally all my idea."

Jon glances at Brendon. "Brendon, you're okay with that, right?" He sounds concerned. He really, really, really shouldn't be. "It's not that I was cheating on you, I just —"

"Oh, no, it's totally fine," she reassures him cheerfully. "I would have done the same thing if they had wanted me."

Spencer continues, "Brendon, you — wait, what?" He looks shocked. Brendon isn't entirely sure why. Wouldn't anybody trip over their own feet racing to hook up with Spencer and Ryan?

"Wait, really?" Ryan asks, sounding just as surprised as Spencer, but with an almost absurd amount of glee mixed in.

"Please," Brendon tells them, unimpressed by their observational skills. "My crush on you two is so obvious even Cash noticed it."

"Cash only noticed it because he wants to sleep with you," Spencer protests, sounding a little miffed.

"Wait, Cash wants to sleep with Brendon?" Ryan asks, making a face.

Jon just puts his head in his hands and laughs, at first silently, then louder. When he finally lifts his head up, his eyes are starting to water. "God," he gasps, starting to laugh again. "First of all, I told you you guys would all love each other. Second, Brendon, do you know what these guys have told me at least once a day since they swung over to The Hush Sound Is...?" Brendon gives Jon a puzzled look, and he continues, "How they think I should get to know you better, because they really want to invite you to join us."

Brendon... has absolutely no idea what to say to that, because how do you reply when someone tells you that you can have everything you've literally been dreaming of? Maybe Ryan could figure out something eloquent to say, but Brendon's thoughts are not nearly coherent enough for that. At the moment, the best way to depict them in writing would be through a string of exclamation points.

"I told you my ideas are great!" Ryan insists, smiling triumphantly.

"You're still not allowed to wear a hat in bed," Spencer tells him. Ryan's grin momentarily turns into a pout before returning full-force. Brendon's not sure she's ever seen Ryan smile this widely before, not even the morning where Spencer woke him up with a blowjob and Brendon admitted that she was getting kind of into poetry.

"But that means we can all have sex now, right?" he asks impatiently. Brendon is right there with him. Talking is definitely overrated.

She, Ryan, and Jon turn to look at Spencer, who frowns back at them. "You know, we really should —" he begins.

"Spence..." Jon interrupts, giving Spencer a look, and Spencer sighs, finally looking like something has loosened inside of him.

"I should damn well hope it does," he tells them seriously.

Brendon only just has time to register how her stomach feels like it just exploded into a flock of excited butterflies before Ryan wraps one arm around her waist and dips her back into a kiss. It's almost chaste at first, their mouths closed, except for the way she's bent over backwards. Then Ryan bites gently at her bottom lip and she opens her mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on as his tongue meets hers delicately.

He pulls away to bite a line of what will undoubtedly turn into bruises down her neck. "We would have persuaded Jon," he murmurs into her skin, "even if you weren't his Brendon. As long as you had wanted it."

"Are you kidding me?" she gasps, her head falling back as he slowly straightens both of them up again, his hands spread wide over her back. "I'd lie in my hammock trying not to think about you three. I'm amazed I managed not to jump either of you. And you, you would just _smirk_ at me..."

"And then he'd spend the entire night talking about your ass," Spencer says from right behind Brendon, his hands suddenly framing her waist. He's sneaky; she would jump in surprise, but that would involve pulling away from Ryan, and that's really not something she wants to do right now. "You have no idea."

One hand runs up her spine, making her shiver. Spencer strokes her neck, then turns her head up and to the side so he can kiss her. He's not as delicate as Ryan was, his mouth pressing against hers more firmly, his beard scraping against her cheeks, his hand pressing her hips tightly against his. Brendon moans into the kiss, letting herself fall back against him.

Brendon glances instinctively to the side and meets Jon's smiling eyes. "Hey, guys," he says. "Mind if I steal her back for a second?"

"Actually, yes," Ryan says, his hands shifting to move under Brendon's shirt, his fingers skimming gently over the curve of her stomach.

Spencer pulls away from Brendon's mouth to remind Jon, "You did get that show on the deck." His voice is getting deeper. Brendon can't help but shiver again.

Ryan takes advantage of Spencer's movement to kiss Brendon again, less daintily this time. It's as if now that the careful, introductory kiss is out of the way, he can kiss her the way he's apparently wanted to for weeks. Brendon kisses back fiercely, trying to pour every thought, every cut-off fantasy into it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jon kissing Spencer, and almost moans again. She can feel Ryan and Spencer stirring to life against her thighs.

Brendon makes an involuntary noise of protest as Ryan breaks the kiss, but apparently it's just so he can pull her shirt off. He leans in as if to kiss her again, but gets distracted by the modified bodice she uses to bind her chest. Brendon shivers as his fingers run across the bottom edge, and then the top, where the bodice presses her breasts almost flat. After weeks of practically sleeping in this thing — even the worry of blowing her cover wasn't enough to make her keep it on all the time — Brendon's gotten used to the low ache in her chest, but suddenly all she wants is to tear it off.

"This is interesting," Ryan says, tugging at the laces along the front. (Along the back, and Brendon would never have been able to put it on or take it off.) "Can we get rid of it now?"

"Feel free," Brendon tells him. Ryan picks the knot apart and begins loosening the laces; in slow increments, Brendon feels herself suddenly become able to breathe more and more deeply.

"This is taking too long," Brendon hears Jon say, and she looks up to see that he and Spencer have stopped kissing for the moment, too busy watching Ryan's fingers. "Step back for a second, Ryan. Brendon, don't move."

Jon pulls his knife out of its sheath and cuts the laces, then puts the knife away, grips the edge of the bodice, and just _yanks_. The ties come flying out of the tiny holes, and the bodice drops to the floor.

Brendon gently massages her chest, trying to get used to the sudden feeling of freedom. Trying to get used to the feeling of nakedness, too. It would help, she suspects, if everybody else in the room took off their shirts as well.

"Well?" she says, gesturing at them. "Come on, I don't want to be the only one showing some skin, here."

Ryan and Jon are already obeying; Brendon turns around and drags her hands under Spencer's shirt, peeling it up and off his torso. He tugs it off the rest of the way as she runs her hands over his chest, flicking a nipple and pressing herself closer to him as his hips jerk forward automatically.

This time when he kisses her, his hands slide down to curl around her ass, supporting her as he lifts her off the ground. Brendon wraps her legs around his waist and peppers his collarbone with kisses and light bites as he walks forward. There's barely a hitch in motion when his knees hit the bed; he just climbs up onto the mattress and sets her down on her back, propping himself up over her on one hand. He quickly shifts to rest on his elbow when she grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss her.

"Hi," she breaks the kiss to murmur, twining her fingers through his hair. "So, I didn't exactly expect this when I woke up this morning."

His head moves down so he can lick a warm stripe from her collarbone to her nipple. "Good surprise?"

"The best," she replies honestly, instinctively arching her back as Spencer brings his teeth into the equation. Oh, that's just not fair. She's totally going to plot some sort of dirty revenge, just as soon as she can actually get her brain to start working again.

"Quit hogging Brendon," Ryan complains, settling down next to them on the bed. Jon lies down on her other side, lightly skating his fingers across her rib cage. Jon likes to tease, she remembers that.

"So do something about it," Spencer challenges Ryan, somehow managing to raise his eyebrow and speak without ever pausing what he's doing to Brendon. Brendon's pretty sure Spencer's got magic of some sort.

"Maybe I will," Ryan says, and then suddenly he's slithering down the bed, pulling her pants and underwear off, and _oh_. Oh, man, she almost forgot how good that felt. And wow, Ryan is great at this for someone who's been exclusively with guys for at least the last two years.

But Jon's still just propped on his side, looking at her and barely, barely touching her, and Brendon wants him, too. (It's like that rhyme her mother always used to sing her — something about making new friends, but keeping the old? Of course, Brendon doubts her mother ever expected her to be using it in this context.) She also wants to actually touch somebody, as much as she's enjoying all the Brendon-love.

"Come here," she tells Jon, dragging him into a kiss. He kisses a little differently now — like he's been missing her for four years, which, you know, makes sense — but beneath it he's still the same Jon who had a year to get to know the best ways to kiss her, the right amount of pressure and tongue. Brendon thinks she remembers the same things about him.

She also remembers that he tends to get very focused when he's kissing, which is why it's so easy to surprise him by snaking her hand down to feel his dick through his pants. He jumps, and she smirks into the kiss. It's also easy to slip her hand beneath the waistband of his pants and start jerking him off.

"If that's how you want to play it," Jon says, lifting his head up and meeting Spencer's eyes. Brendon really wants to know what they're —

"Oh, fuck, Ryan," she groans, throwing her head back. She had absolutely no idea Ryan was so talented with his tongue.

The rhythm of her hand slows. By the time she manages to focus on it again — although that's a strain, with Ryan going to town between her legs — Spencer and Jon have switched positions, with Jon now paying attention to the breast that Spencer had so cruelly abandoned.

Once he notices that he has Brendon's attention, Spencer lightly grips her chin and kisses her. Brendon tries to concentrate on kissing him back while jerking Jon off, with all that pressure building up inside her so that she almost feels like the right touch, even the right word could set her off.

Jon leaves her nipple, and she almost whines into Spencer's mouth, but then he starts whispering in her ear. "I think I know what you'd like now. I think you want to see me fuck Spencer. I know you have to have thought about it by now, about me with them."

And then there's Ryan, and he's so good, just the right combination of warmth and pressure and motion —

"And making Spencer lose control, it's the hottest thing," Jon confides, "making him stop give orders and just start begging," oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, there's no way Brendon is going to last long if he keeps talking like this. "But, you know, I don't think I would let him come yet, I think I want to just work him up and then watch him fuck you —"

Brendon moans wordlessly, finally pulling her mouth away from Spencer's and loosening her hold on Jon, and jerks her hips up once, twice, before collapsing back to the bed, panting. That... holy crap. That whole "melting into a puddle" thing feels pretty accurate right now.

"God," she gasps. What a way to break a four-year dry spell. "I... wow." She glances over at Jon, who looks quietly pleased with himself, and pokes him in the chest. "Hey. You. No looking smug until you actually live up to your word."

Jon glances across her body to Spencer. "You up for it?" he asks, and Brendon snorts inwardly. Oh, they're all definitely up for it; that much is obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.

"I don't know, Walker," Spencer snarks. "You seem pretty confident of your ability to make me beg."

Ryan crawls up Brendon's body to whisper into her ear, "Jon can totally do it."

Of course, Ryan's not that much better at whispering than Cash, so they all hear him. "Whose side are you on here?" Spencer demands snippily, glaring at Ryan without any anger. Plenty of heat, though.

"Personally," Brendon contributes, feeling she ought to add to this discussion, "I'm on the side of awesome orgasms." Like the one she just had. Definitely on the side of awesome orgasms.

"Seconded!" Ryan agrees quickly. Brendon's not terribly surprised, especially since she can feel how hard he is against her hip. "I would really like one, actually."

Brendon wraps an arm around him, still thrilled that she has a license to do that now. Not that she didn't hug Ryan before, since Brendon is a naturally tactile person, but now it can be a sexy hug. Sexy hugs rock. "Tell those two to start moving, then, since I want to blow you, but I want to settle in to watch the show first."

"Hurry up, assholes!" Ryan snaps, scrabbling in a drawer for lotion and throwing it at Jon and Spencer, who are in the process of getting completely naked. Brendon can't help but laugh. "Bren, can't we move so that you can watch?" Ryan pleads, and yeah, Brendon would not mind bestowing awesome orgasms sooner rather than later. She and Ryan make a joint effort to take his pants off.

"I don't know, Spencer," Jon says, slowly uncapping the lotion while Brendon and Ryan wiggle around. "You think we should make them wait?"

"I think," Spencer retorts, propping himself up on his elbows and watching Jon, "that you just don't know if you can live up to your promise to Brendon."

"Oh, Jon keeps all his promises to me," Brendon cheerfully informs Spencer, her face a few inches above the region of Ryan's crotch. "I just don't want him to take another four years keeping this one."

"Burn, Walker!" Ryan laughs. His cock is practically right in front of Brendon's face, so she gives it a considering look and licks the head. Ryan makes a really gratifying squeaking noise.

"What is this, Gang Up On Jon Day?" Jon gripes. It isn't, not that Brendon knows of, but it does give her a few interesting ideas for his birthday. "Guess I'll just have to prove it."

He slicks up his fingers and slides one into Spencer, who opens his legs wider. "Come on, you can do better than that," Spencer taunts, and Jon slips another finger in.

"Brendon," Ryan whines, and Brendon realizes she's just been lying there, breathing on his dick.

"Sorry," she apologizes, rolling her eyes up so she can watch Jon and Spencer as she wraps her mouth around the head of Ryan's dick. The angle's not amazing, but it could be a lot worse. She pulls off for a second to add, "Sorry, I might be a little rusty at this," before sinking back down again.

It'd probably be easier to see if she was on her back, but this way she can set her own pace, and she wants to go slow, at first. It really has been a while, and while she and Jon were pretty busy during those last two weeks, it wasn't enough to completely rid her of her gag reflex.

While she's busy working her hand in mouth in rhythm, she's also keeping an eye on Jon and Spencer. Jon makes it up to three fingers, but he's moving almost torturously slowly. Spencer complains, "Come on, Jon, I'm not going to break, you can actually fuck me now."

"I don't want to rush things," Jon says, pressing up and in about as quickly as molasses. He smiles sweetly. "You know, since you've got such great self-control and everything."

"Screw you," Spencer says, rolling his eyes. "That wasn't begging, that was boredom."

"Oh yeah?" Brendon sees Jon twist his wrist, and Spencer arches up off the bed. "Yeah, you're really bored right now."

Brendon concentrates on Ryan for a second, pinning his hips to the bed as she licks a line down to his balls before taking his dick in again, trying to go deeper. One day she'll totally let him fuck her mouth, but today is not that day, especially since Ryan's cock is disproportionately large. It's insane.

When she looks back up, Jon is slowly inching himself into Spencer, who's beginning to breathe heavily. Brendon thinks Jon is going to win. She does have first-hand knowledge of his patience, after all.

"Hurry up," Spencer gripes, and yeah, Jon is totally winning, because Spencer's orders are beginning to sound a tiny bit more like begging.

"See, Spencer, you think that just by ordering me around you can stay in control," Jon says thoughtfully, setting a careful rhythm which Brendon begins to emulate on Ryan's dick. Making a high-pitched sound at the back of his throat, Ryan tries to lift his hips up, but Brendon keeps them pressed against the bed. "And it's not like I don't like it when you order us around. I just don't want Brendon to think that's how it is _all_ the time."

Brendon sees him change the angle just slightly, simultaneously reaching up to stroke Spencer's dick with his still-slick hand. Spencer cuts off a groan, and Brendon accidentally sinks too far down on Ryan's dick. She chokes and her eyes start watering, but she tries to blink as little as possible as she pulls off and catches her breath. She doesn't want to miss too much of this.

"Brendon?" Ryan asks, sounding breathless but also concerned. He reaches down to pet her hair, and Brendon nearly purrs.

"I'm okay," she assures him, letting her hand take over a little more of the work as she re-focuses on the head of his dick. "But you can keep petting me if you want." One day, she wants him to just grab her hair, but that will have to wait for now.

It's a testament to how absorbed Jon is in getting Spencer to lose control, and how hard Spencer is trying not to, that neither of them notice Brendon's minor failure. Which is fine by Brendon, of course. She'd rather they pay attention to getting off than to her inability to deepthroat Ryan's oversized dick.

Brendon begins to move a bit faster just as Jon takes his hand off of Spencer's cock. Spencer reaches down himself, but Jon grabs his hands and pins them above his head. "Yeah, no," Jon says, smiling and pressing a brief kiss to Spencer's neck.

"Fuck, _Brendon_ ," Ryan groans, and Brendon speeds up even more. She sucks as hard as possible and goes down as far as she can without choking again, and this time doesn't try too hard to stop Ryan when he bucks under her grasp. He yelps when she pulls off completely and lightly tongues the tip before sinking down again, and Brendon can't help but grin slightly, humming in satisfaction.

The humming apparently does him in — she makes a mental note of that — because in a second, his hand is clenching in her hair as he jerks his hips up once again and comes in her mouth. She swallows what she can and spits the rest out, and his hands move from her hair to her shoulders, urging her to crawl farther up. When she does, he kisses her lightly and curls an arm around her waist, lightly stroking the skin at her hip, as they watch Jon and Spencer.

Jon is still going at the same maddeningly slow pace, and even as the audience, Brendon is getting kind of twitchy. She can't imagine how Spencer must be feeling, although his continued attempts to speed things up is a pretty good indicator.

She must have missed something that Jon said to Spencer, because he seems to be in the middle of a sentence. "— don't you think, Spencer?" he asks breathlessly. That breathlessness is the only sign that the slowness — seriously, glaciers have moved faster than Jon is right now — is a strain for him, too. "No touching at all, not until you're lining up to slide home. Think of it like... not ruining your appetite. Yeah, I like that."

Ryan's questing fingers drift down, away from her hip, to circle lightly over her clit. Brendon can't hold in the squeak; she's still feeling a little sensitive, not too much, but enough that the touch makes her clench her stomach slightly. Ryan smirks and slips one long finger into her, and Brendon makes another noise, less high-pitched this time.

"I remember those noises," Jon says, flashing Brendon a slow smile before turning his gaze back to Spencer. "Did you ever imagine them, before today?"

"I did," Ryan murmurs into Brendon's ear, kissing her hair. His finger keeps on moving, and Brendon shudders. "All the time."

"I know you said Ryan was the insufferable one, but I bet you thought about it too. I saw you, you know, when Ryan was talking. You're not as good at hiding things as you think you are when it's just us." Brendon can hear Spencer's breathing, loud and fast; Jon obviously can too, if his smile is anything to go by. "I know you wanted it, too. And god, Spencer, you should see the way she's looking at us right now. You guys were crazy if you couldn't tell that she wanted you back."

"Oh, _god_ , Jon, _please_ ," Spencer begs, and Jon's smile becomes a grin. "I can't take this anymore."

"Since you asked so nicely..." Jon says, his thrusts speeding up noticeably. Brendon closes her eyes briefly, leaning back against Ryan and pushing into his hand, only looking back up when Jon groans. She has fond memories of that face, the way Jon looks right when he comes, like he's getting everything he ever wanted.

Jon pulls out, and Brendon can't resist tugging him over to kiss her. Ryan pulls his finger out and Brendon sits up a little, but Jon, his mouth still pressed against hers, pushes her backwards again, his hand resting on the curve of her ass.

"I still have one more promise to keep," he reminds her, and Brendon caresses the side of his face as he draws away.

"I remember," she tells him haughtily, crawling across the bed to kiss Spencer, who's lying there with his dick almost painfully hard. "A little hard to forget about Spencer."

"Oh, is it?" Spencer asks, his voice wrecked. Brendon likes the way it sounds, but she sticks her tongue in his mouth after that, which stops him speaking for a little while.

When he rolls them over, she let his thigh fall in between her spread legs. She can't help rocking back and forth; she's worked up, what with Ryan and getting to watch the Spencer and Jon show. After her first orgasm, anyway, it's always easier to slide into her second.

She doesn't see the point right now in exercising Spencer's control; she's willing to beg. "Now," she pleads, because while Spencer has very nice thighs, she's pretty sure both of them would rather have him fucking her than them just rubbing against each other. "Please, Spencer."

Ever the gentleman, he pushes into her slowly. Brendon wraps her legs around his waist, her feet at the small of his back, as she slowly gets reaccustomed to the feeling of a dick inside of her. It's a bit uncomfortable at first, but Spencer's movements are deliberate enough, careful enough, that it's only a few minutes before she's urging him to go a little faster. Brendon, unlike Jon, is not always a particularly patient person, especially when she's having sex.

"God, you're tight," Spencer hisses. Brendon can hear Ryan and Jon murmuring to each other, off to the side, but she has no idea what they're saying.

She thinks she can figure out the gist of it, though, once they move to join her and Spencer. Jon reaches one hand down, brushing his fingers across the spot where she's stretched around Spencer, then feathering across her clit. Ryan goes the opposite direction, kissing Spencer firmly before turning to Brendon's skin, flitting between her nipples and her neck, always soothing tiny bites with licks.

It feels — wow, all of Brendon's descriptions have completely flown out the window. This isn't terribly surprising, of course, and she doubts that even Ryan comes up with poetic sentences when he's in the middle of sex. Well, mostly doubts it, anyway.

She knows how she feels, though. She feels wanted, the most wanted she's felt in years, since the last time she saw Jon look at her like all he wanted them to do was spend the week in bed. It's a really good feeling. It's a really _sexy_ feeling.

Spencer starts moving even faster, with Jon and Ryan both touching her more firmly, and Brendon groans and tightens convulsively around Spencer, her eyes fluttering shut. Spencer's thrusts are harder — still in rhythm, though, which is so _Spencer_ that she's a little impressed — which sets off a few aftershocks. It's almost too much sensation until she feels him come inside her.

He pulls out and rolls off of her, only just avoiding landing right on top of Jon, and the four of them just lay there for a while. It's really a good thing that the bed is as big as it is, otherwise they'd probably all be on the verge of falling off.

Brendon tries to get her breathing under control. "Holy crap," she finally croaks.

"Mmm," Ryan agrees, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his head against the curve of her neck. The bed is a mess, their clothes are everywhere, and the four of them are sweaty, disheveled, and splattered with drops of come. Brendon feels fucking fantastic.

She pauses to swallow before asking, "Are they going to be waiting for us?" and her voice comes out a little more normally.

Jon curls an arm over Spencer and links hands with Brendon. "Nah," he says, sounding unconcerned. "But they will tease us like crazy when we finally come out."

"You know, there's a simple solution to that," Spencer informs them, his forehead resting against the side of Brendon's head, one leg twined with hers. He and Jon are spooning while simultaneously cuddling Brendon, who is cuddling Ryan. It's like a whole pile of cuddle. Brendon approves whole-heartedly.

"Are you going to glare them all into submission?" Brendon wonders curiously. She thinks she'd like to see that.

"No. We just never leave."

"First Mate Spencer Smith!" Ryan sounds as delighted as anyone with a semi-perpetual monotone can. "I never thought I'd hear you suggest something so impractical!"

"Who said anything about impractical?" Spencer asks, using his logical voice. It almost fools Brendon for a moment, before she remembers that Spencer is a tricksy fellow and starts actually paying attention to what he's saying. "We never leave, they never get a chance to make fun of us. Problem solved."

"But then I'll never get to go to a Clan Island party," Brendon tells him mournfully, although the idea does sound kind of tempting. "Everybody says those are awesome. And Cash was all excited about me losing my party virginity."

"We're staying here forever," Ryan immediately responds, tightening his hold around Brendon's waist.

"Yeah, I really don't like Cash talking about anything to do with you and virginity," Jon says, squeezing Brendon's hand. Spencer just laughs into her hair.

Brendon snorts. "Well, you took care of my actual virginity pretty well, so I don't think you really have anything to worry about."

"Pretty well? Only pretty well?" Jon asks. She thinks he's trying to pretend to be offended, but the way his voice is still sex-hazy and content is kind of ruining that plan. "Brendon, you wound me. I don't know if I can forgive you for that."

"Sorry, Jon," Brendon apologizes lazily. She's feeling too good right now to make any real effort at pretend-remorse to soothe his pretend-outrage. "Dude, you were there, you should know just how awesome it was."

"Oh, I know. I just wanted to make sure you knew, too," Jon informs her. Now he's trying to be haughty. She's pretty sure, at least. It's not working any better for him than 'offended' was.

"I do," she assures him, cuddling into Ryan and Spencer more. "Best two weeks of my life."

"It took you two weeks to lose your virginity?" Ryan asks, wrinkling his nose. "What the hell happened?"

Brendon laughs. "What? No, I lost my virginity and then we spent the next two weeks basically doing nothing but have sex. And then Jon left." She reaches over Spencer to punch Jon in the arm. It probably doesn't hurt at all, but he obligingly says, "Ow," which makes her feel better.

Ryan jerks up to look at her, and she protests wordlessly, dragging him back down to the bed. "Two _weeks_?" he demands once his eyes are level with hers again.

"Damn," Spencer says, sounding impressed.

"What can I say?" Jon asks, shrugging. "We're awesome."

Ryan peers over Brendon at Spencer. "Spencer?"

"Yes, Ryan?" Spencer responds patiently.

"I'm willing to go to the party today if we can stay on Clan Island for three weeks. I want to beat this record," Ryan insists, determined.

"Yeah, okay," Spencer replies casually. Brendon thinks that's all he wanted to say, but then he adds, "But you do realize that means we have to actually get up and get dressed, right?"

There's a pause. "Fuck," Ryan says eventually. Brendon can't help but agree with him. Damn that Spencer Smith, ruining good plans with silly things like logic.

There's another pause.

"You know," Jon begins thoughtfully, "sometimes Clan parties last two days at the least, right? We could probably wait until tomorrow, if we wanted..."

Brendon looks at Jon. Jon looks at Ryan. Ryan looks at Spencer.

"I say we go for Jon's plan," Brendon says, just as Spencer says, "Deal," and Ryan asks, "So how much sex do you guys think we can have before tomorrow?"

*

Somehow, they do manage to make it out of bed. There are a couple of reasons for this. For one, they're all starving, to the point where they unanimously agree that there can't be any more sex without food. Well, possibly. Okay, they could probably go another round, but seriously, hunger calls.

Also, Ryan really wants to wear one of his hats again. Brendon knows Ryan has to have been longing for them ever since ship-kiss, and now he finally has access to them again. However, this means he has have to get up, since Spencer continues to refuse to allow him to wear any hats in bed.

Personally, Brendon thinks this is sensible. Wearing a hat in bed would just lead to the hat getting crushed, and that would be a travesty.

She doesn't get to help Ryan choose his hat for the day, unfortunately, because every time she and the others try to help each other get dressed, they keep on getting... distracted. Mostly by trying to help each other get undressed.

"Okay, it just feels wrong for me to be putting clothes on Jon," Brendon insists, running her hands over Jon's bare chest. He grabs her wrists, but didn't move them.

"No touching each other," Spencer orders finally, sighing. "Everybody, just keep your hands to yourselves and get dressed." He glances at Brendon for a second before adding, "Brendon, take off your shirt."

Brendon just looks at him, confused. "Doesn't that defeat the —"

She's interrupted first by Ryan, who's waving his arms at her and trying to get her stop protesting and just take her shirt off, and then by Spencer, who explains, "Because that's _my_ shirt."

Brendon obediently takes the shirt off, but she can't say that she's precisely prompt about it. She can't help that Spencer likes wearing shirts with lots of small buttons, and it's just so much fun to slowly undo every button, one by one...

Not the point! Anyway, food. They leave the cabin for food and partying. Brendon's really excited about her first Clan Island party; she's seen Cash and Gabe scheming together more quietly than she would've previously given Cash credit for.

This party is going to be beyond great. It's going to be legendary. Epic, even. Gabe promised. It's going to be the best part of her life so far, and will only ever be surpassed by following Clan Island parties. She's going to remember this party for the rest of her life.

...And then the bird comes.

It's not a pigeon, trained or otherwise. Brendon's not actually sure what type of bird it is, since it's a brighter shade of blue than any bluebird she's ever seen. Twittering urgently, it alights on Ryan's shoulder and holds out the leg to which the message is attached.

Ryan grabs the note and is about to start reading when the rest of the birds crash down onto the deck simultaneously. There're one or two more blue birds, a red, and, bizarrely enough, a duck. All of them are carrying messages stamped with a familiar seal: a large black circle with two smaller black circles attached on top, printed right above a silhouette of a castle.

The Uries never dealt too often with the inhabitants of Disney Island, but Brendon recognizes the Mousecastle seal. Everybody does.

Ryan finally manages to read the note, just as Spencer and Jon busy themselves with the assorted messenger birds. Spencer unties their messages, while Jon untangles the birds and straightens their feathers. They chirp at him gratefully, except for the duck, who waddles around and quacks at Brendon's ankle until she stoops to pick her up. (Admittedly, she knows nothing about fowl gender, but the duck just strikes her as a girl. It might be the necklace, but she doesn't want to succumb to gender stereotypes. She's sure boy ducks can wear jewelry, too.)

When Ryan looks up again, he's horrified. Spencer doesn't ask what the note says, just frowns and reads one of the notes he removed from the birds. Brendon can tell when he finishes reading because he crushes the note in his hand, looking angrily determined.

"We have to tell Mike," he tells Ryan, who nods. Brendon and Jon look at each other in confusion, but Ryan and Spencer don't offer clarification; they just stride down the gangplank to the beach.

Brendon and Jon quickly move to follow, as do the birds. The red bird and one of the blue perch on her shoulders, cooing to the duck in her arms, who quacks in return. Brendon has absolutely no idea what they're saying, but their grip is pretty good, since neither of them even have to flap their wings for balance.

Brendon hurries over the splintery wood of the dock, sighing in relief as they run onto land. She hadn't bothered putting on shoes before the missive arrived. Of course, the inevitable pebbles aren't much better, but at least she won't be picking them out of her feet later.

Luckily, the beach where the crew set up camp isn't too far away. Grass and pebbles change to grass and sand, and then just sand, which squishes between Brendon's toes as she follows Spencer, Ryan and Jon.

"Heeeeey," Alex Deleon says when he spots them. Most of the crew is gathered together, cooking some form of lunch over a huge fire. Butcher and Gabe are sitting a little off to the side making their way through a pile of nuts, berries and assorted greenery. Whatever's cooking must be meat, then. "Finally, the lovebirds return."

He looks up in confusion as one of the blue birds perches on his head. The last one flies to Greta, who pets it absently.

William looks like he's about to make a joke when he notices the look on Ryan and Spencer's faces. "What's going on?" he asks seriously, staring at them.

Spencer just shakes his head and turns to Mike. "Mike, we just got news from Disney Island," he says seriously, holding Mike's eyes. "Kevin's been kidnapped."

Brendon feels her eyes widen. Oh, this is bad. This is terrible. Not only is Kevin the eldest son of one of the most noted families in the South Seas, he's also Mike's one true love. If anything happens — no. No, it can't happen. They'll find him.

The look on Mike's face changes from slightly homicidal to _more_ homicidal. Brendon edges over to stand next to Jon, nudging him. "So, about how Mike looks like he wants to kill someone," she whispers. She's a lot better at whispering than Ryan, Cash, and that one guard. She has to be; she has nieces and nephews who are really, really good at overhearing things.

"He usually looks like that," Jon murmurs back, sliding an arm around her waist. He sounds rattled, and Brendon thinks he's probably as horrified by Kevin's kidnapping as she is. Maybe even more so, since he's actually met Kevin. Hell, he even helped scheme to get Kevin and Mike together. "The trick is interpreting it."

"So what does it mean right now?" she asks curiously.

Jon studies Mike's face. "I think right now it means he wants to kill someone," he tells her, and Brendon nods. That would make sense.

Mike stands up, not even bothering to brush the sand off his pants. "What's the fastest course to Disney Island?" he asks simply.

"Come on," Spencer says, gesturing him up the gangplank, "the good map is on The Black Parade."

Bob climbs to his feet. "I'll come too," he declares. "We'll need to figure out some tactics."

Spencer nods, and the three of them walk off quickly, leaving the rest of the group staring at their backs. "I'll go tell Pete and Patrick," Greta says, sighing. "God, what a nightmare."

"We'll find him," Sisky says confidently, looking around at the rest of them. "I mean, come on. It's us! This is what we're meant for!"

"Sisky's right," Gabe agrees, nodding. His eyes land on Brendon. "Although it does mean that our new cabin girl has to miss her first Clan Island party."

"Aww, man!" Cash complains. "You guys couldn't have stopped having sex long enough to party for a while? It was awesome! Who knows how long it's going to be until Brendon gets to come back?"

Jon glares suspiciously at Cash, keeping his arm wrapped protectively around Brendon's waist. Suddenly Ryan curses. "Damn it! Now I'm not going to get my three weeks of sex!"

Brendon pats him on the shoulder reassuringly, even though she wants to curse as well. She was looking forward to holing up with him, Spencer and Jon.

"Three weeks?" Victoria asks, raising her eyebrows, and then all the teasing that Brendon had been expecting starts.

*

Brendon stands at the prow of the boat, watching it push through the waves. The wind is in her hair, the sun is shining down on her, and all in all, she's feeling pretty good. She was a bit disappointed about not getting to spend three weeks in bed with her boys, but rescuing Kevin is more important. And anyway, as they proved last night, it's not like the four of them have to be completely celibate. (God forbid. Brendon might cry if they did, and the last time she cried was after the terribly dinner where three of her cousins had engaged in a spirited debate about what was more likely to happen to seafarers like their former stable boy: death by fighting, death by drowning, or death by giant squid. Brendon kind of wants to tell them now that they're all wrong and that the most likely fate of a seafarer is a long life full of awesomeness.)

And she can't even regret missing the party too much, because Cash promised to make sure that the next one is even crazier. She loves Cash and the rest of the Alexes; being in love with Jon, Ryan and Spencer doesn't change that the Alexes are still some of her best friends.

Gabe and Sisky backed Cash's vow up, which means it pretty much has to be true. Gabe is incredibly trustworthy with his friends, and Brendon has to believe Sisky. After all, he's the one who convinced her to sign up for all of this, and it's not like he lied in his persuasive speech. She _is_ living a life of action and adventure on the high seas, and it rocks.

She hears Jon coming a few seconds before he hugs her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. His bare feet brush against her shoes. "Nice hat," he murmurs into her neck.

Brendon grins. Her hat really is fabulous. It should be, after all; it's one of Ryan's. "There are benefits to sleeping with the captain," she tells Jon solemnly. There are. Those benefits come in lilac satin with feathers.

Jon is silent for a moment. "And are the benefits worth giving up your entire life for?" he asks finally.

"No," she replies immediately, and his arms tense. "You guys are worth giving up my entire life for. The benefits are just fun." She feels him relax against her back, and adds, "Besides, it's not like it was a very fun life to start with. And now I'm going around rescuing people so true love can prevail. It's amazing."

It really is. No more uncomfortable corsets, no more rules of high society, no more boring dinner parties where she can't stop fidgeting.

"Yeah, I'm kind of a fan of true love prevailing," he tells her, and she smiles.

They gaze silently into the horizon for a while. Brendon's half-tempted to strike a pose, pointing at the horizon and announcing, 'To Disney Island, and our next great adventure!' The only reasons why she doesn't are that, first, it wouldn't necessarily make sense, as they've been sailing for a day; and second, she already did it yesterday, when they set off. Come on, like she was going to let an opportunity like that go to waste?

Dramatic gesture thwarted, she simply admires the weather. It's a gorgeous day, something out of one of Ryan's books; wispy white clouds drift across blue skies, reflected in sparkling seas. Brendon wonders if, out there somewhere, the Disney messenger duck is flying around. She misses that duck. Pigeons she doesn't care about, but if Ryan wanted to try to steal her duck, she wouldn't complain.

"You two look cozy," Spencer says, and Brendon only just manages not to jump. She's really going to have to start getting used to Spencer's sneakiness one day.

"You should come be cozy with us," Brendon informs him, smiling. "Who took over steering?"

"Mike," Spencer answers. Mike, Chiz and Sisky are all traveling on The Black Parade, which is a smidge faster than The Hush Sound Is... Of course, it doesn't really matter, since the ships are traveling so close together that Brendon can see most of what's going on on the other deck. Mike just frets. "He needs to stay busy or he starts silently freaking out."

Brendon's realized over the past two days that her version of silently freaking out is very different than Mike's version. Her version involves a lot of flailing. Mike's involves shutting down almost completely and yelling at random people. That's why Sisky and Chiz came with him; they're generally good at keeping him semi-calm.

"We'll save the day," Jon says confidently. "We always do."

Just then, there's a loud crash on the deck, and Spencer sighs. Brendon hears Ryan and Gabe's voices rise above the general din, although she can't quite make out what they're saying. It doesn't matter; in a minute, Ryan stomps up to the forecastle.

Brendon ducks her head to hide a smile. Ryan is adorable when he's pouting, at least before it gets annoying.

"I'm joining you guys," he grumbles. "You guys don't ask ridiculous things of me."

Brendon considers this. "Well, last night we —"

"That was different," Ryan interrupts quickly. He wiggles his way in next to Brendon, his arm bumping Jon's. "But if I've told him once, I've told him a thousand times that I'm not going to write an epic poem called Snakes on a Ship."

Sandwiched between her three favorite men, Brendon laughs and listens to Ryan gripe. She was never good at being a dutiful daughter, but she thinks she could become a pretty rockin' pirate.

After all, she's got the rest of her life to practice.


End file.
